Coffee & Sugar
by maboroshiiction
Summary: When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us. Even the young doctor would have overlooked it if not for the furious screaming and kicking. Maybe it was time to change the locks. Spencer Reid/OC. T rating for crime scenes, violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Criminal Minds. Criminal Minds along with the main characters (Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, Dr. Alex Blake) along with their families/friends/partners/co-workers and any other characters who do appear on the show but are not the main cast are owned by The Mark Gordon Company, Jeff Davis and CBS Television Studios

Some other characters are created by me. Like the main OC and her family/friends/co-workers. So I'm claiming ownership on them.

And the rest of the unimportant character like detectives, unsubs, victims, police officers appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

* * *

**Chapter 1 (prologue)**

_When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us._ ~Helen Keller

It was one of those nice Sunday afternoons. The Sun was up high in the sky hidden behind a pack of light clouds; sound from the usually busy street came now only as a dim hum; and the wind could hardly ever lift a single yellow leaf from the ground.

The perfect start of a November. Dry streets, colorful trees, children playing in the leaves on the ground.

Perfect relax time for many people. The perfect time for some book reading for the triple PhDs genius Dr. Spencer Reid. He welcomed the time off with open arms. The last few weeks were mind-blowing. A set of explosions all over Idaho and Montana mobilized the best minds of The States and even so it took way too much time and too many victims until the right Unsubs were caught. No matter how much the media and police declared it was all over. The streets would never be safe again, and the despair and sorrow would linger not only in the minds of families and friends of the hundreds of victims, but also in the minds of all people who worked on the case.

That was the reason why the young genius spent his weekend with nothing but books. He already finished John Fowles and Geoffrey Chaucer yesterday and David Hansberry this morning. Now it was time to brush up the pages of '_The Narrative of John Smith_'. His long fingers stroked the pages as his eyes breathed in the words of art. Arthur Conan Doyle was one of his favorite writers and the book was a source of sweet, yet also bitter memories. Despite the cool touch of the simple cover against his hands, the warm feeling in his chest remained.

His mind was stuck in the old novel for a while when his enthrallment was cut short by violent banging on his door. He frowned at the interruption. No one ever visits him on weekends. He had rarely any visitors on weekdays; once or twice a colleague picking him up for work. Never a social call. Not that the genius in his early thirties was socially incompetent; but his home was his own oasis of peace and rest. Untouched by big parties or intimate dinners. And he liked it that way. The increased noise behind the door forced Reid to finally mark a page and put down his book.

"You little piece of shit! I know you're there! Open the fucking door!"

Reid nearly tripped over the coffee table at the screech. He heard something fell from it but it was not in his interest to give it a first priority.

"You can't hide from ME. I won't let you hide away from this! I swear to God I will castrate you. Open the fucking door!"

There was a well placed kick that left the door trembling much like the young genius. He shifted awkwardly on his spot and hesitantly approached the entry door until he could see through the peephole.

"You faggot, just who do you think you are? I'll tell you what. You are the lowest piece of shit in this universe. You're a retarded asshole. You're motherfucker. You…"

The door opened and the assaulter stuck a deep breath. "'ree… not the one I was expecting…"

"I hope so," replied Reid slowly and looked at the person standing in front of him.

It was a girl. A young woman maybe a head shorter than him. Some strands of her chestnut hair that didn't quite fit into the messy bun pranced around her startled face. Her wide confused eyes were of hazel color and she was dressed in simple pair of jeans and dark gray hoodie. He could tell, from how she rubbed her thumb against the index finger that was so accusingly pointed at him just a moment ago, that she had no idea how to react to this new situation.

"Uhm. Did you… perhaps… moved in? Recently?" she asked with a half whisper looking behind Reid's left shoulder.

Reid followed gaze to the short hallway and to the dimly lighted living room. He shook his head and bit into his lower lip. "I do live here for quite a while now," he replied.

The young woman in front of him pursed her lips and shifted on her spot. "Well,… this is really… embarrassing," she mumbled and brushed her hair away from her eyes. "Do you, by any chance, know someone… named Andrew?" she asked trying to avoid eye contact with the stranger in front of her.

She actually latched her eyes on the brown buttons of his knit sweater.

And Reid saw her actions. Even the little twitch of her lips and nose. "I think there lives some Andrew in the apartment above mine," he replied thoughtfully.

The girl looked at him quickly and snapped her fingers. "Dammit, wrong floor again!"

Reid raised his eyebrows in surprise. Was mixing floors a frequent occurrence for her? He hoped this was hers last visit here.

"Do you think he heard…? The… yell?" she asked again quietly but this time she was also looking at him.

"Any other person would probably say that the 'yell' couldn't be unheard in one mile radius, but actually this is very old building with thick walls and ceilings so there is a high probability that no one from the floor above or below this one heard it," Reid answered as best as he could. Although it might have been better if he simply said 'no' and thus omitting the puzzled expression on the girl's face and the itch in his thumb that seemed to appear only when he wanted to rewind back the time to say something different.

"Yeah, ok, great. Thank you. And, uhm… sorry. Look, I'm really, _really_ sorry about that. I didn't wanted to cause any trouble and there are no words that could help me express my deep regret. So uh, I'm going to move awkwardly that way, and hope that one day you are going to remember this only as a funny story," she said and clumsily pointed to the stairs leading to the upper floor.

True to her words Reid saw her walk away like she was in a great pain and before she turned her back to him he could also spot a remarkable grimace on her face.

He waited a bit until she reached the stairway before calling out to her. "Do you want me to call an ambulance for the Andrew guy?"

She halted and placed an angry frown on her face "I don't think he will want to be seen by anybody when I'm done with him."

"Do you know that violence is not the answer?" he advised her already feeling sorry for the guy that pissed her off.

The girl took three steps up and the frown melted into mischievous grin. "You know what they say. Violence is not the answer, it's a question. And the answer is 'Yes'." And with that her figure disappeared from Reid's sight.

For all the 20,000 words per minute he could read and his eidetic memory, the doctor did not come across that one. Nor did he come across any statistics that would support the saying. But none of that did stop him from crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. He felt kind of like an old lady who had days and nights nothing better to do then to monitor and stalk her neighbors. But Reid was not monitoring, he just wanted to make sure that no one will end up in a state that called for the medics. It was his responsibility to help the other people. Although, now that he was thinking about it, his responsibility was also preventing people getting into conflicts…

Well, too late.

He heard a faint knock on the door above his own apartment. He would have missed it had he not his ears wide opened. Silence fell upon the building for eleven seconds before Reid stopped breathing at the sound of keys unlocking the doors. There was no talk, no curses, no accusation. Just a sound of quick impact and one long inhuman piercing male scream. It resonated through the hall of the whole building. And Reid was sure that _that_ _yell_ couldn't be repressed by any thick wall and ceiling.

That yell made even him freeze on his spot. He heard the stairs creak under soft pressure but the young doctor could not move away no matter how much he forced his brain to command to his limbs to _freaking move_.

When the girl, few steps away from the ground, spotted the unwanted audience they both looked very much like deer caught in the headlights. It took a few seconds for them to move. First was the girl, for the whining of the man in the upper floor woke her up. She shifted her gaze on the floor and pursed her lips. With a few awkward steps she quickly passed by Reid without looking at him.

And the young genius was so flabbergasted that he watched her the whole time without blinking until she disappeared from his sight.

The next time Dr. Spencer Reid opened his door was in the early morning of the next day to check his mailbox. His eyes immediately caught a white package in front of his Chuck Taylor shoes. There were no signs or label. Just a clean box with and a small note tucked in the top right corner.

Reid carefully picked up the box and looked closer at the note. '_I'm sorry for the psychopathic assault on you yesterday._' he read the pretty cursive. He forgot all about the mail. He shut the door and put the box down on his coffee table. The boy was very careful to open it. His fingers twitched a bit when he played with the knot of the green twine, but when he finally managed to untie it and open the box his eyebrows shot up to the skies. There, in all its glory, was a cake with rich chocolate icing and smarties decoration.

SSA Derek Morgan immediately knew something was wrong.

It was Monday morning and the sky was clear from any clouds. Many agents around looked annoyed and not half so ready to start yet another week. And yet, the young agent next to him did not look all that bothered. First of all he was about five minutes late to the BAU, and had yet to mention the reason why. And then he disrupted all his morning customs.

Morgan watched him for years to pass hurriedly through the entry glass door to walk straightforward to his table and then make a beeline for the coffee counter.

And now…

Now his walk looked like cheerful stroll of woman in shopping centre. With his head held high he nodded in greeting at everyone that looked at him. He placed his bag carefully on his table and only after he unpacked all the necessary things he would need he turned around to head over to the coffee counter. And again with a stroll of a person with all the time in the world.

Had Morgan this attitude it would be because he got lucky in the night.

But it was only after the young doctor greeted him at the counter and put less sugar than coffee in the mug when the dark skinned agent realized how serious it was.

"So, what's up, kid?" he started lightly.

"Hm?" Reid quickly glanced at him to express his attention before he looked back at his mug to pour a hot water in it.

"Did you run out of sugar?"

"I do have sugar."

"Yeah. But it's less than your usual quarter of cup. Did you finally get scared of getting diabetes?"

The youngest member of the team didn't seem to catch the sarcasm of his muscular friend. "There are three main types of diabetes mellitus, although many people believe there are only two. The first one is characterized by loss of the insulin-producing beta cells of the islets of Langerhans in pancreas leading to insulin deficiency. There is no prevention against this type and majority of the cases developed in children. The second type has high blood glucose and relative insulin deficiency. Obesity, lack of physical activity and genetics are the primary causes for this type. It also occurs more in female population and older people. The third one, gestational diabetes mellitus, occurs only with pregnant women in 2% - 5% of all pregnancies. It is treatable but about 20% - 50% of all affected women will develop the second diabetes type sometime later in their lives. I'm pretty sure I do not fit into any of these criteria."*

Yeah. That was more like the Reid they all knew and hated.

"You are free to believe that. So as I said, what's up?"

Reid shrugged. "Nothing I would know of."

"And what's with that face?"

"What face?"

"The '_I'm having a good day_'face" explained Morgan and tried to imitate Reid's face; although the expression looked more like something Garcia would look like when she talks dirty on the phone.

"Maybe I have a good day," replied Reid and took a sip of his coffee.

"You never have a good day on Monday morning. And you never have good day at any day before at least two cups of coffee that consist of 60% of sugar," insisted Morgan and speed of after Reid who left after he heard the first part of the sentence.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Morgan."

"Thank God the cat has nine lives."

"Well, actually…"

"Leave it for later, wonder boy. We got a case," cut him off Garcia and hurried to the conference room with a stack of papers under her right arm.

The rest of the team was quick to follow and after the mention of Cincinnati and five head-less bodies the fate of the cat was promptly forgotten.

* * *

* Wikipedia


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next time he saw her again was a week later. The weather was a bit chilly but the Sun was hidden behind clouds so Reid decided to give it a go at chess at fresh air in the park. Dressed in a warm coat and a favorite purple scarf he spent the first half an hour just lingering around the park. His legs were falling asleep from doing nothing the previous days. Since the closed case in Cincinnati where they caught the Unsub by midday Wednesday at the railway, he was loaded with stack of paperwork for the rest of the week. He was in dire need of some exercise and fresh air.

Despite the multiple mothers with small children and bored teenagers on the benches, the park was pleasantly quiet. There were no wails, screams, fumes or sharp light that would cause him a severe headache.

As he slowly approached the chess area he walked by a small playground. There were only seven children playing and three adults watching over them.

One of them was familiar to him. She had the same messy bun as before but her face and posture was relaxed. She was sitting on a bench near to the swings with her knees up close to her chest. She was reading some sort of magazine or textbook. He couldn't tell from the distance.

Reid didn't expect to see her again. Nor did he expect his legs to grow a spine and change the direction. He was maybe halfway to the playground when he suddenly realized what he was doing and came to an abrupt halt. _Just what exactly was he thinking?!_ He pressed his lips together, bit into his inner cheek, and rocked back on his heels. After a while he took a step forward again but then swiftly turned to walk away. Just to change his mind two seconds later.

"Sami, do not lick that. Jimmy, despite what you think, I can see you. And I'm not amused," called out the young woman with calm voice. She didn't even look up. With her eyes still glued to her reading material she appeared as if she was merely talking to herself.

But the two kids near the swing pole froze and looked up to her with expression as if they were caught robbing the entire cookie jar. They appeared to be around five years old. A boy and a girl with matching green eyes and chubby cheeks. Twins.

Reid watched the little boy pout and took his sister by the hand only to cross the whole playground to conquer the yellow slide in the corner.

"Never knew such an aggressive person can be left alone with children," said the young agent out loud looking down at the girl sitting on the bench to his right.

The brunette jerked on her seat at the extra presence. She looked up startled at the boy and bit into her lips when she recognized him. "Newer knew a victim could talk willingly to the attacker," she replied avoiding his eyes.

"Well, I was just passing by when I saw you," he shifted on his spot, "and I wanted to thank you for the cake."

The girl looked a little bit flushed when he brought up the encounter from the last week. "It was the least I could do. I'm really sorry for screaming like a psychopathic banshee at you without knowing if I have the right person."

"Your apology was good enough for me, you didn't have to do anything extra," Reid shrugged. "Although the cake was really good. I ate half of it in one go."

"You did?" she raised her eyebrows. "It was a cake for like, four people."

Reid shrugged his shoulders again, "people say I got a serious case of sugar addiction."

She grinned at him and he could see a straight row of white teeth. "I had a hunch you would be the sweet tooth type." She closed her magazine and put it next to her on the bench. The boy was so engrossed with her smile that was such a contradiction to the grimaces she was making a week ago that he forgot to catch the title or anything else she was saying. "Tea."

"Hm?"

"Tea. Like the green tea. Or do you want coffee or tea? It's short for Teatrice," she raised her right hand to him.

"Oh." He looked at her hand but rather than shook it he fixed his hair behind his ear. "Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Well, Dr. Spencer Reid, what are you doing this fine day alone at park?"

"I'm actually going to play chess over there," he turned around to point at the nearby chess area.

"I thought that was mostly for older people."

Reid rearranged his messenger bag and lightly stroked the leather strap. "It's for everyone."

The girl on a bench shrugged, "I know. It's just that the only people I know that play chess are my grandfather and his cronies from the war," she tried to explain.

"Didn't he taught you?"

"He tried, oh he did, and not only me. But I had neither the patience nor desire for that."

Reid champed at his lower lip and shifted his gaze to the playground. "Yours?" he motioned his head to the direction of twins.

"Good heavens no! They are my sister's. I'm just the unfortunate aunt that has to babysit them," she exclaimed and suddenly remembering her purpose she looked up at them and immediately scolded them for fighting for the next shot on the slide.

"Statistically the sibling that is less than two years older than the younger kid is more likely to win the fights and competitions. And if the older one is boy and younger a girl it can go up to 97%. Although after reaching the eight year the percentage will keep on decreasing since around that time kids are starting to realize that younger siblings need their protection."

Tea kept on looking at him the whole time with furrowed eyebrows. "Did you just make that up?"

"No. I read that in the '_Psychological aspect of siblings and their relationship_' from 2007 by Dr. Stephen Smith."

Really, Reid couldn't understand why he even bothered to open his mouth when people kept on looking at him like that. Even his colleagues from the BAU put that face from time to time and they knew him for a decade!

"I got an eidetic memory. If I read something it will stick in my mind forever," he explained and saw her eyebrows take its natural position.

"Well, that sure explains it."

"Uh, yeah," he said awkwardly and shifted his weight to the other leg. "So…," he started again after a couple of silent seconds, "I guess I should go, while there are still some free tables left."

"Oh, yeah, sure. It was nice meeting you." Tea nodded and waved her hand a bit.

"Ok. Bye." Reid awkwardly waved back to her and took a step back.

"Bye."

He turned around and hurried away from the playground with pained expression on his face and a lively jerk in his fingers.

Tea opened her magazine again but her eyes stayed on the young doctor until he picked up a table at the farthest end of the chess area.

Spencer Reid stayed on the same spot for quite a while. Three hours and twelve minutes to be precise. It took him nearly one hour and two opponents to turn his head to the playground. Tea was still on the same bench. But her whole focus was now on the twins who were playing with a boy of similar height on a small colorful merry-go-round.

The next time he raised his eyes from the chessboard was one hour and 26 minutes later. Neither the brunette nor the look-alike sibling were anywhere in sight.

By the next hour it got slightly chillier and he was playing by himself. The elder people went home long time ago due to the low tolerance of cold clime. The Chinese boy he used to play with when he was not out of town on a case had to retreat half an hour ago for the tutoring session he was giving at the math club. The rest didn't want to play with him because they knew from past experience it would be a quick game with a devastating results for them.

The young genius was lost in mute solitude when a shadow fell on the chessboard from the left side and a familiar voiced ringed in his ears.

"Up for a cup of coffee?"

Reid looked up to spot Tea. Without twins. "Where are the kids?"

"Home. Probably annoying the shit out of their mother."

The boy looked back at the board and his fingers twitched a bit. He was four steps away from winning over himself. Again.

"I'm sure your opponent won't mind if you postpone the game."

"I don't have any opponent; I'm playing by… oh," he suddenly realized what she was talking about. "No," he shook his head, "he won't. I think we both deserve a break, it's a tough game."

"Brilliant. I just know the right place for your sweet tooth."

Reid was quick to clean the table and follow Tea.

It was a few minutes' walk. The streets were half empty; cars zooming pass them once in a while and the passerby's could be counted on the fingers of one hand. They spent the time in comfortable silence until Tea stopped in front of '_At sweets End_' cakery.

"Well, it would be perfect if it wasn't closed," said Reid shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

"Nothing is closed as long as you know the right people and the right words," replied Tea and shoved her hands in her pockets like the boy in front of her.

"Open Sesame?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"You are this close," Tea showed him her left hand with index finger and thumb just half an inch apart from each other, "but that's not it."

"And what is it?"

"Well. First you have to know the right person, right?"

"That's what you have said," Reid nodded.

"And that's obviously me."

"How so?"

"Because I know the right words," Tea smiled.

"You do?" Reid wondered and crossed his arms against his chest, not really believing.

"Sure. Wanna hear?"

He nodded.

"Ok, here it goes," Tea whispered and leaned a bit closer to her companion as if telling him a secret. "Where the heck did I put the keys?"

Reid, who was on his own accord leaned to her too, straightened. "What?"

Tea furrowed her eyebrows, grimaced a bit and shoved her hands further into her pockets. After five seconds her face produced a winning smile as she pulled out a pack of keys from her left pocket.

"Keys," she shook them. "The right person with the right keys will open any door for you."

"Or you have to work there."

"Nah, my version is far more badass."

Reid shook his head but let her unlock the door.

It was a one storey building, over ten years old but renewed not a long time ago. It was cozy inside. Bright yellow paint covered the walls, big flowery wallpaper in the cash register corner, bunch of cake display showcases. There were about fifteen wooden tables of all sizes and comfy looking chairs and some restaurant booths. Flowers were stuck everywhere and it reminded Reid strongly of summer.

Until now he was never inside. He spotted immediately when it was opened some time around a year ago. He walked by a few times and even though he is a sugar addict he never desired different type of sugar than the one in his coffee.

Reid tore his eyes away from the decorations when Tea disappeared behind the wooden door behind the cash register. He was slow to follow since he didn't know where the doors lead to. But once he was pass them he was met with an enormous kitchen divided into two parts. The right side was made in industrial style. Bunch of silver steel, ovens, refrigerators and pretty much everything one would need for sterilized baking.

On the left side was placed a regular kitchen that can be found in any other household. Just about two times bigger. A nice big break room with a table for at least six people in the middle. Tea already used one of the chairs for her coat.

"How would you like your coffee, Dr. Spencer Reid?" she asked while cleaning her hands in the sink.

"You can call me Reid. Most people do. Or Spencer, if you like. My mom uses that and one friend also calls me Spence," Reid trailed off. His colleagues and pretty much everyone work related calls him by his surname. Spence is reserved only for JJ. "Call me Spencer," he decided.

"Ok," Tea nodded, "how would you like your coffee, Spencer?"

"Regular. Thank you."

"Cream, sugar?"

"Sugar."

"Won't take a minute."

Spencer nodded and took off his coat and put it with his bag and scarf on the chair across the seat with Tea's attire. It was pleasantly warm inside. The colorful walls and domestic touch neutralized the cool aura of the germ-free stainless steel across the room. And the soft dining chair felt so much better against his backside than the stone cold benches in the park.

"Do you want some muffins with that?"

"Sure."

"What type?" Tea inquired putting a green apron over her head.

"Uh, whatever you have ready."

"I'm baking them now," she replied with one hand pouring hot water in the coffee mugs and the other one mixing flour with sugar together. "Vanilla, chocolate, nuts, fruit, cinnamon, alcohol,…" she trailed off, "what's your fave stuff?"

"I don't know. Chocolate, I guess, nuts too."

"Got that. Here you go," said Tea and put a coffee mug in front of Spencer.

"Thank you," he hummed as he inhaled the rich aroma. It was incomparable to the instant beverage from the BAU. His hands wrapped around the hot mug and it left his fingers feel tingly all over. Not able to resist the thought of taste of caffeine on his tongue he took a sip without waiting for it to cool down. It nearly burned his throat but he couldn't help but to swirl the hot liquid in his mouth when he detected an unusual flavor in it. He tried to focus on in but couldn't describe it. The smell was right, the rich brown color was right, the amount of coffee was right, and even the amount of sugar was pleasant to him which surprised him greatly. But all together it wasn't anything like he tasted any time before.

"It tastes different than what I'm used to," he remarked with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, woops, sorry. I put stevia in it instead of sugar without asking you. My hand kind of reaches for it automatically when I'm making a coffee." Tea apologized. "Is it too sweet? I can make you a new one; I still have some hot water left."

"No. That's ok," he assured her quickly. "It tastes good. Different, but a good different." And it sure did. He heard of the sweetleaf before, but there was no reason for him to try it when he had a lifetime supply of a pearly white sugar.

"You sure? It's no problem for me."

"No, don't worry. This is great." And to prove it he took another hefty sip of it.

The girl cracked a smile and turned back to her muffins that just needed to be filled into the Teflon tray.

"Did you also made the cake you gave me?" Reid wondered. He knew from the beginning that it tasted too good for it to be done in some supermarket line production. He supposed she just walked by some cake shop in the morning and decided on the spot to buy it for him as an apology. But looking around he had to reevaluate his previous assumption.

"Yeah," she replied and stuck the muffin tray in a hot oven. "I wouldn't try to apologize with some sorry excuse of a cake from manufactory. I wouldn't do that even to my worst enemy. Oh, no, wait, I take that back." She took a sip of her own coffee and took a seat across from Spencer.

"So, any chance of telling me what did the Andrew guy do?"

Spencer watched her shift on the chair. She furrowed her eyebrows and made a displeased gesture with her mouth.

"He was cheating on my friend."

Spencer raised his eyebrows.

"With three other girls."

And opened his mouth.

"And one of them is apparently two months pregnant."

And shut it.

"Faggot."

"Wow, uh. I guess your 'psychopathic assault' was legitimate." Well, some guys were lucky enough to have four girlfriends at the same time. Spencer didn't even had this much girls looking at him twice in his whole life. He could, if he counted the ladies working on the streets. But strictly physical relationship wasn't something an awkward genius would go for.

Tea made a pained expression. "Yeah, at the wrong person," she muttered.

"I'm over it," Spencer tried to console her. "What did you do to him? I heard a scream."

"I made sure he won't conceive any offspring in the near future."

He watched her grin like a Cheshire cat behind her mug. "How?"

"By kicking him where the Sun doesn't shine," she looked up at him from below her eyelashes.

"Oh." The boy was rooted on a spot for a while. Do not, under any circumstances, cheat on a girl with certifiable friends. Do not cheat on a girl, period. He nailed down in his brain. "I guess I got better off than him."

Tea smiled at him, "I still can't believe you opened the door. If some stranger was banging and screaming at my door like a lunatic I would keep still and hope whoever is on the other side would leave eventually. Or call the police."

"I checked the peephole. I assumed if I didn't know you, you would not know me and thus realize you made a mistake." Spencer shrugged. "And even if you got the right person and tried to scratch out my eyes, and I have to say you really looked like you were just about to do that, I had my gun. So I had the upper hand anyway."

"You have a gun?" Tea uttered, "I screamed at a person with a gun?! Why do you have it? You don't look like a type that wears gun. Don't take me wrong."

"I'm authorized to carry a gun. I'm a federal agent."

"I screamed at a federal agent?" she whimpered covering her mouth.

"Supervisory Special Agent."

Tea covered her whole face.

"I get frequently gun pointed at me, and once also shooting me, so don't worry; screaming is not that bad," Spencer tried to reassure her.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!"

"I thought it would," he said honestly. Wasn't that supposed to be soothing? To know that the bad stuff people seams to do are not the worst? That no matter big your mistake is, there is someone else with even bigger mistake? Maybe he miscalculated; maybe he couldn't apply universal theories to female gender.

Really, it was not like she was trying to actually murder him. He sure is going to remember that day for ever with his eidetic memory. But it won't end up anywhere in his top 100 worst moments. The more time passed the more he started to believe that it will become a funny story just like she had said seven days ago. "Really, don't think about it. I got a fabulous cake from it. It was absolutely worth it."

Tea put slowly her hands down with a deep sighed and looked at him. "You're so courteous. But thank you, it was a new recipe."

That seems to do it.

"Oh, am I a guinea pig now?"

"No, don't worry. It was tested before. We are putting it tomorrow on the menu list. You are the first outside the staff here to taste it."

"Wow. Thanks for the honor," Spencer smiled and his mouth corners widened even more when he saw a similar expression on the girl sitting across him.

"The muffins will be ready in about five minutes. Do you want another coffee?"

"Yes, please."

And they spent two more hours of talking over chocolate muffins and hot coffee until it got dark outside. Tea packed him the leftovers and Spencer promised to become a regular customer.

* * *

Hey guys, thank you so so so much for reviews, favorites and follows (insert happy tears here ಥ‿ಥ). I appreciate you stopping by and reading this fic.

I will be uploading every 10 days. So the next chapter will be ready on 6 March, and it will be more of a case chapter. Because you know, the FBI agents have to also work sometimes :D


	3. Chapter 3

_Warning: _This chapter is case centric. The victims are kids. Kinda like a normal Criminal Minds episode (at least I tried to write it like that).

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_few weeks later_

"My bellowed doves I do not bring you happy news. A month ago three boys between the ages of six and seven were abducted and found dead few days later. The time between death and the next abduction was less than 36 hours. Pathology confirmed signs of rape in all three cases and the police in New Orleans caught Peter Clarkson, your invisible neighbor with pedophilia history, and the abductions stopped. Except another boy went missing yesterday," said Garcia with top speed as she flashed photos of three deceased boys and one missing.

"Peter Clarkson is still in jail and had no contact with anyone outside. No phones, no mails, no visits. If he is not the right person and the Unsub is still outside we have about four or five days to find Owen Sanders still alive," continued Hotch.

"What about a partner?" suggested Morgan. "One gets in jail and the other one instead of laying off continues with the routine to make the police believe they had the wrong guy?"

"That's very unlikely. Pedophiles only rarely have crime partners. Over ten years there were only two recorded cases of pedophiliac partnership in the States. Their low confidence prevents them from talking about their sexual preference to anyone," disagreed Reid.

"I'm perplexed about the diversity," said Rossi checking the reports in his hands. "Except the age there is no resemblance. The looks are different, they went to different schools, came from different types of families. Their personality was different. Mike Rogers was a football kid, Joseph Ward was a shy kid living only with his grandmother, Mark Harris had asthma and poor sight. Owen was abducted right from the playground; his class teacher said he is a social butterfly. There is no preference, no type."

"Could it be that the boys were a victims of a serial killer who tried to mask the murders by additional rape?" asked JJ rereading the pathological records.

"Unfortunately the Unsub was kinky with the boys while they were still alive. I will not quote what the medical results said for I would like to keep my breakfast down."

"So we are dealing with a pedophile or a sexual sadist," confirmed Blake and Reid next to her nodded.

"It could be that not the boys, but the act alone is important to the Unsub. There is still the same M.O. present: bodies found near the forest with their hands tied with a white-blue rope. Laboratory confirmed they were from the same package."

"Wheels up in 30."

Derek Morgan ended up in a small stuffy New Orleans police conference room with the young genius and a big map of the city. They tried to get together a geographical profile but the abduction spots, victim's homes and local child offenders were too much apart to make sense.

After a while the bulky agent started to see the red spots not only on the map but also on the walls around it. Looking at his fully absorbed colleague slowly attaching the red pins on the map he decided to sit down and let Reid to take care of it. It was his expertise anyway. So why, he asked himself, why did Hotch decided to let him stay behind to help Reid when his specialization was nowhere near textbooks or pictures?

He was into explosives and obsessions, dammit. Not into office work, sitting or looking at Reid's back. Mainly when Reid held the pins like a snobbish lady would hold a cup of tea.

He was desperate and needed badly to go outside and do any 'real' work. And he needed a distraction before he would go crazy from the colorful pins in front of him.

"What's up, Reid?"

"Hm?" The messy haired boy looked down at the sitting Morgan two steps away from him. "Nothing."

"It's obviously not 'nothing' if you are looking like that."

"Like what?"

"Big frown, crooked mouth, the twitch in your leg that shakes the whole building,… pretty much the 'I just stepped into dogs shit' look," explained Morgan.

"The last time I checked I did not have my eyes or mouth on the back of my head nor does the map posses reflective properties so it is impossible for you to determine my facial expression," said Reid slowly while carefully measuring the distance on the map to place the pin in his hand correctly.

"Maybe, but I am a profiler and I have also known you for quite a few years so I can determine your facial expression just from that annoying twitch of your leg."

Reid turned around to look at Morgan and he was, indeed, in possession of a deep frown and a curl of lips.

And Morgan pleased with himself just smirked at his colleague and leaned back into his chair. "So, what's up?"

"Nothing important," grunted Reid and went back to his map.

"That can work on someone else but not me. Look, if something is troubling you, you can tell me."

"There is nothing wrong in my life or with my family and it does not concern this job or the case. So it's not important," persuaded him Reid but Morgan didn't looked like he was about to abandon his only prospect of distraction in the stuffy office.

"If you have troubled mind than it does affect the case."

Reid stopped twitching his foot and took a deep breath. "Look, I'm just in a bad mood. The last time I had a normal coffee was yesterday. This one here," he glared at the half full paper cup with now already cold brown liquid in it, "is bad as hell and in the whole station they have not any different coffee than this… thing."

"What? Did they not provide enough sugar for you? We told them we would need at least two pounds a day," teased Morgan and tried to reach for the cup but Reid smacked his hand away with a list of pedophiles Garcia provided for them.

Lack of taste did not meant lack of caffeine. And that one was important for Reid to work properly. "Don't touch that. Molest your own coffee."

"Mine at least tastes like a real coffee, compared to that thing you are used to."

"Very funny, Morgan" retorted Reid and turned back to the map. "Turn back to the case and either pass me some pins or go find out what's new with Hotch."

The young agent found another place to attach a pin so he extended his hand to Morgan. When a couple of seconds passed and still nothing reached his fingers he turned around to meet an empty seat behind him.

"Anything new?" asked Hotch as he saw Blake and Rossi walk back into the conference room.

"No. Andrews and Morisson have alibi, Ford is in the hospital with broken leg and punctured lung, and Rollers is already five weeks in Canada visiting his older sister. They can be all crossed out from the list. Did you learn anything from the parents?"

JJ shook her head. "They live in different parts of the city and never even saw each other. But most of the parents never let the boys out of their sight. Mike was abducted when his father was 10 minutes late from picking him up after practice, Mark went missing in the hospital waiting room when his mother left for the restroom, Owen's mother just turned her back to the playground for a second to buy a coffee when he disappeared. Only Joseph was used to shopping by himself but he had no special routine."

"The Unsub was either stalking them and waiting for the right opportunity or he was very lucky by randomly picking them," added Hotch.

"Stalking would take time," asserted Blake and moved to the timeline chart. "The Unsub had a boy for four or five days. When he disposed him it took less than a day and a half to abduct another kid. He didn't had enough time to observe them."

"Joseph and Mike could have been an opportunity abducts," agreed Rossi pointing at a small brunet boy. "Joseph was easy enough. The Unsub saw him with a grocery bag and no adult near him. Maybe he saw him in the store alone and followed him. Mike was waiting alone near the football ground. If he didn't look nervous it could appear to the Unsub that he was used to waiting and so he grabbed him."

"And what about the other boys? He must have watched Mark and Owen until they were alone. He had to know how their parents looked like. And he had to wait until that specific moment when they were alone to grab them without anyone else noticing," said JJ.

"Did someone question the hospital staff?"

"Morgan and Reid are already on the way there."

"So you didn't see anything out of sorts at that time?" asked Morgan again a middle aged Afro-American nurse at the hospital reception. The room was nearly empty at this late hour. There was a young woman with two small kids, few teenagers who appeared to came in a frequent contact with the ground, a man with hurt arm and a retiree who turned out to be in deep slumber.

"A male, 30-40 years old, alone, either with no injury or a small one," tried to specify Reid but the woman behind the desk looked at him blankly.

"Honey, it was a very busy day. At that time we had a food poisoning at a family gathering, they were all in that corner," she pointed to the left corner with her glasses. "At some point after nine o'clock I was busy with the phone. There was a car accident with many people in it. And the next thing I knew a woman started to scream that her child got lost. That's all I can tell you. I'm sorry."

The agents nodded and after giving her Morgan's business card they moved to the chairs Mark and his mother occupied two weeks ago.

"This is pretty much the middle of the room. I can see everyone and anyone can see me," said Morgan looking around the room.

"Everyone with injury was registered at the reception. At that time the only people with mild injuries were a teenager with bloody nose and a man with cut off finger. Both were still there when Mark went missing. Any other patient was too much injured to handle a six years old boy," said Reid checking the copies of patients' forms provided by the hospital.

"So the Unsub was not a patient. That leaves us with only the staff working here or the escort of the patients."

"No one left the room when Mark disappeared. I would cross the escorts out. Garcia has already the list of staff working on that day, right?"

"Yeah, but it's still couple of dozen doctors and nurses and not to mention the janitors and all," replied Morgan.

"The hospital has all operations and treatments entered in the system. If we match the times with Mark's abduction the list of suspects will be shorter," suggested Reid and looked around.

"Whatcha thinking about?" asked Morgan looking at the frowning colleague.

"The windows are transparent," he replied pointing at the big windows as many people walked by behind the glass.

"Yes, genius. Windows are usually transparent."

"We are on the ground floor. And the seat Mark was on is in good positions to be seen by anybody who walked by behind the glass."

Morgan look at the window and then back at the seat next to him. "So the Unsub could have been watching from the hall and after he saw someone worth, he came in and waited at the entrance for his opportunity."

"How would he do it without causing a scene?"

"Threats, promise of goods, looking like someone with authority or by knowing him personally."

Reid frowned and looked at the copy of the registry form written by Mark's mother. "What kind of pedophile wants a child with health problems?"

"What kind of a human being sees child as a sex object?" replied Morgan with hard eyes.

The next chilly morning was spent over autopsy reports of the young boys. They all had some kinds of bruises on the hands or legs from being tightly tied with a rope but none of them lacked nutrition. The rest of the autopsy concerning sexual activity was hard to read even for people with long experience in similar cases.

Just before noon Morgan practically fled from the tinny office when Hotch told him to check the playground with Reid.

The playground was located only few miles away from the hospital. There were only two kids and an older woman who appeared to be their grandmother. Since the news of Owens kidnapping not many parents let their kids play here. On the west side of the playground was a quiet street. The forest on the east side was separated from the playground by a small park.

"This is open space. The Unsub couldn't watch the playground from the park. He would stand out like a sore thumb. And the forest is too far away, he wouldn't be quick enough to grab Owen and disappear in it," stated Morgan.

"So he came from the street. But how did he arrive?" asked Reid. "There was nothing on the camera from hospital parking lot. If he didn't use a car in that case he probably didn't use it in this one too."

"Maybe he parked somewhere else. Checked the area."

"But how would you take a kid from a busy park without anyone noticing? And so quickly?"

"Threats and promise of goods are out. It would take time to persuade a kid. The Unsub could be again someone who appeared to be person of trust or someone familiar to Owen," suggested Morgan.

"The Unsub can't be familiar to all the kids," frowned Reid. "There was no connection between the families. Different schools, doctors, hobbies. What would four boys from different parts of the town have in common?"

"What do _people_ have in common? They trust only family, friends, and uniforms. If we cross out the families and friends it would leave us with uniforms. Maybe the Unsub pretended to be someone with authority. Police officer, doctor,… kids learn to trust these people. They would go with them willingly."

"Maybe," nodded Reid.

"I'll call Garcia," said Morgan already picking his phone. "Hi baby girl,… oh yeah, I love your candy body too,…"

Reid promptly turned around and walked away from the phone sex. It took him about a minute to spot a coffee salesman Mrs. Sanders mentioned in her testimony. It took him another two minutes to get to him and another one to find out that except the numbers from one to ten and the words 'coffee, yes, no' he didn't know any English. Or Spanish, French, Russian, Mandarin, German or Portuguese.

"One coffee with sugar," he said defeated at the end.

"Huh?"

"Sugar. This," he pointed at the sugar bag and showed him four fingers, "four."

The salesman looked oddly at him but obliged.

Reid gave him the money and with a hot coffee in hand he turned back to Morgan after the disturbing conversation with the tech-goddess was over.

"Garcia is working on it and will contact Hotch with the results. Learned anything new from the coffee guy?" asked the chocolate thunder shoving his phone in his pant pocket.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Is the coffee at least better than the one in the police office?"

"Still sucks," shrugged the unhappy genius.

"Kid, you are too much used to it. You need to finally try something different. You know, cola, tea, chocolate,… these contain caffeine too," advised Morgan but the boy in front of him stiffened suddenly.

"I'm used to it; I need something different," repeated Reid quietly with wide eyes. "Morgan, that's it! I wondered why the Unsub picked Owen from all the kids on the playground. What if the Unsub is picking out the boys that are different from what he is used to? We have a sport kid, loner kid, sick kid, and a popular kid. What do we NOT have?"

"Clever kid. Good grades, probably in some clubs, nerdy type. None of the boys had also blue eyes."

"That is the Unsub's fantasy. Maybe he knows a kid like that but doesn't want to think of him so he is trying to find another kid that would not act as a substitute but as a conversion."

"He is hoping that he can shift his preference," continued Morgan.

"Exactly," exclaimed Reid quickly dialing a number on his phone, "Hotch? We are ready to give a profile."

Jeremy Davis was a 42 year old widow. Effective in job, polite to neighbors. He was often seen patrolling the streets. To keep the lively teenagers calm, to prevent intoxication in plain sight, to remind kids not to play on a roadway.

Invisible for most adults; well known by the kids.

A father of a six year old Dean Davis. Blue eyed, blond haired boy with passion for books and science.

A father who loved his son more than he should.

A father who rather sacrificed children of other people than his own blood.

Hotch and Morgan found him in his job. He followed without objection. It took him five minutes to break down over the photos of four young boys. It took him another three minutes to tell the agents where to find Owen. JJ and Rossi were promptly sent to find the boy.

Jeremy repented his actions over and over again and cried that he won't see his son for a very long time. No one told him it wasn't his fault. No one told him he was suffering a severe personality disorder that if treated correctly it would prevent all his actions against the young boys.

Later that day, when Blake and Reid picked up Dean Davis from school, the boy said that daddy was simply different from other parents. Loving him with words and attention; but never with touch. No hugs before work, no good night kisses on the forehead, no pat on the shoulder after winning a Spelling Bee. The agents didn't explain why exactly he won't be seeing his father for many years or why he was from now on going to live with his aunt in Oklahoma. And he didn't ask.

Owen Sanders was found alive in a shed at the edge of the forest. He was dozing off on a plain mattress and didn't utter a single word upon noticing the new arrival even though the agents and medics assured him he is safe. He only hung onto the pretty blond agent until her comforting hug was replaced by a warm embrace of his mother at hospital.

The doctors said he will heal physically, but the mental scars will remain for the rest of his life.

* * *

A necessary evil if you ask me.

Chapter 4 wil be uploaded on 16th March. Reid is going to be a little bit interrogated by his colleagues :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Home sweet home," exclaimed Morgan as he dropped his go bag on the floor at BAU headquarters. "I think I need a drink after that. Anyone with me?"

"Oh my hot chocolate. I won't let you run away from me that easily when you just came back." shrieked Garcia coming from the tech lair with a pout on her face and immediately latched herself on his strong arm. "Zink-Blink and now you are attached to me."

"I'll pass on the drink. I'm going home to Henry, hug him, and lock him in the house until he is at least 20 years old," said JJ and welcomed the one arm hug Garcia offered to her.

"That's a neat idea. I just might use it on Jack too," agreed Hotch thoughtfully.

"Suddenly I'm happy none of my wives wanted a big family," admitted Rossi. "But you can count on me with the drink."

"Me too. Are you in, Reid?" asked Blake.

"Hm? Oh, no thanks, I'll pass," said Reid shuffling his go bag in its rightful place and with quick hands cleaned up the piles of documents that expanded on his desk while they were in New Orléans.

"What's with the hurry, pretty boy?"

"Yeah, Reid. After every case you practically rush out of here. Is there something we should know about?" asked JJ and Reid could feel six pairs of eyes digging a hole through his head.

"I do not rush out," defended himself the youngest member of the team with offended expression. He didn't comment any further even though the others looked like they were expecting him to.

"I don't think you are that eager to go home."

"I'm not going home," said Reid and regretted it right in the next second. For such a genius it was quite a fail to forget that whenever his mouth was quicker than his thought it ended with a fiasco on his part.

Garcia's mouth dropped open and Morgan flashed him a wolfish grin.

"My man."

"Nothing like that," exclaimed Reid with a slight crack in his voice and furrowed eyebrows.

"Are you meeting a woman?" asked Rossi.

"In Virginia currently resides nearly 4.2 million of women. So wherever I'll go I will be meeting a woman."

You can't argue with statistics, can you?

Well. According to JJ's face, you can.

"I'm going to this one place," started the boy again uncertainly, "where I know one girl personally. But she is not the main reason I'm going there."

"Is the place open to public?"

Reid bit his lips and nodded slowly, "yes."

"Than what are we waiting for? Lead the way!" exclaimed Garcia with glee.

"What? No!" squeaked Reid. "You can't go. I mean, you wanted to go for a drink. You should stick to your plan."

"Oh, come on, pretty boy. Don't be embarrassed," pat him Morgan on the left shoulder and the girls started to laugh as Reid started to blush over the attention he was getting from his colleagues.

"I'm not embarrassed and now I'm going," Reid raised his hands as the rest of the team moved along with him, "and no, you are not going with me. So have a nice evening and I'll see you again tomorrow." He backed away and without waiting for a reply he headed with quick steps to the elevator.

The team waited until the young genius vanished from their sights before looking at each other.

"So, are you still going to lock Henry and Jack up or are you going to stalk Reid with us?" asked Morgan.

"Stalking Reid can wait until the end of the next case. Now I need some quality time with Jack," declined the offer Hotch.

"Me too. If this is a regular thing for him my curiosity will be satisfied sooner or later. Right now the most important thing for me is Henry and Will," agreed JJ.

"We will keep you posted, sweethearts," said Garcia and dragged Morgan to elevators.

"Isn't that kind of invading of his privacy?" asked Blake.

"We are a family. We are authorized to invade each other privacy."

The brunette looked uncertainly at Hotch.

"It's more of a perk than actual breach of a law, really," the unit chief tried to reassure her.

Blake decided he failed at the reassuring.

"Well. I don't know about you, but Morgan enticed me to the idea of a drink. So wherever we are going he is buying me one. I just can't lose a track of him," said Rossi and offered Blake to accompany him.

With the last look at JJ and Hotch she nodded and followed the senior agent after Morgan and Garcia.

It took Reid a while to get on the right street. He couldn't wait to finally reach his destination and warm his freezing hands. He wasn't there for a whole week and the case in New Orléans only brought back bad memories. He needed desperately to calm his mind and restore his vigor.

He was nearly there; he had just to cross the street. And that's when he saw it. The big grins of Tweedledum and Tweedledee hiding behind the corner. He didn't even have any time to blink before he spotted another pair trailing not far behind.

Dr. Spencer Reid was known for being a genius of IQ 187. He noticed all the details, all the little pieces of information. He could crack any code or hidden meaning. There was practically nothing that could escape his notice. Then why, he asked himself, why did it take him so long to notice he was being stalked by his colleagues all the way long?

He supposed it was meant to be. No one on the team had any secret that they could hide for longer than it was necessary. Not that he considered his affairs a secret. It was more of a personal business that he wanted to keep personal and not open to public. But with a pack of profilers as his friends he guessed he managed to keep it private for quite a long time.

Reid waited until the stalking pairs met and with a heavy sight jerked his head to indicate them to follow him. To say they were not surprised when they crossed the street and stopped on front of a cakery would be a lie.

"Really?" mocked Morgan.

"No one forced you to come," retorted the boy and stepped inside. Instead of his usual small table he picked now a bigger one and seated himself without waiting for the others. After a quick curious look at the cakery the agents followed Reid to the middle of the room to take their seats. Soon enough a slightly chubby woman approached them to take their orders.

"Good day, Dr. Reid. You finally brought your friends with you?" she greeted with chipper voice and a toothy smile.

"Hi Jessica, these are my colleagues from work. How are you?" asked her Reid replacing the annoyed expression he was giving his seatmates with a pleasant one after he looked up at the waitress.

"I'm splendid, thank you. What do you fancy for today? Anything particular in mind?"

"Not really. What do you recommend?"

"Tea is just finishing awesome looking blueberry lemon cake. And we also added a vanilla coconut cake to the list. That one is great too."

"I think I'll have that blueberry one whenever it's ready and a coffee, please."

Jessica nodded with a smile and looked at his colleagues. "And what can I get for you?"

"I'm definitely in for the vanilla coconut cake and a cappuccino, please," said Garcia after she overheard the conversation.

"I will also have a cappuccino and a cinnamon paradise," joined Blake looking at the menu with Rossi.

"Cinnamon for me too and a double espresso," older agent added musingly scratching his beard.

"Paris Chocolate cake and a regular coffee for me, beautiful lady," smiled Morgan and Reid glared at him.

"Won't take a minute," said Jessica with a blush adoring her cheeks and vanished behind the kitchen door.

"I must admit, wonder boy, of all places I could think of, I would have never expected you to end up here," confessed Garcia.

"Why not?"

"It's so bright here," replied Rossi looking around but the wonder boy just shrugged.

"Your sugar addiction just reached a whole new level."

Reid frowned and awkwardly fixed his hair behind his right ear, "it's not that bad."

"Better than looking at the glass bottom, I say," exclaimed Blake trying to support the young colleague across from her who seemed to appreciate it.

"Imagine that. Most people after hard work gets inebriated and pretty boy gets high on sugar," teased Morgan but after a quick look at Reid's face he added, "not that I'm complaining. But you need to live a little. Get in the bar; enjoy a nice drink and maybe a pretty lady on a dance floor."

"That's your routine, not mine."

"And for how long it this _your_ routine?" asked Blake.

"Five weeks," admitted Reid after a while.

In those five weeks he learned that Tea not just only works here; she also owns it. Every time she was trying a new recipe she gave him a small piece for free with his regular order when he came over. So far he managed to come after every case. It was refreshing; like a massage after a hard menial work. It made him forget about the monsters, terror and thinking altogether. When he was not away on a case he visited the establishment more often. Sometimes just to satisfy his sweet tooth, sometimes to relax, sometimes to have a normal conversation. Most of those visits happened near the closing time. But Tea never kicked him out. When the last customer left, she locked down the cakery, switched off the lights, and shoved him to the kitchen where they talked for another hour over cookies and hot stevia coffee.

He also got to know the other people who worked at the cakery. Jessica, a childhood friend of Tea, specialized in decorations. She was full of joy and honesty even though her parents died before she turned 20. Julie, a 19-year-old student, who was trying to gain some experience in food industry and earn some money. And Lucy who was Tea's family friend. A nice motherly middle-aged woman who helped with big wedding cakes and who kept on telling him he is too skinny whenever the two met.

He made small talks with them. After a bumpy start they eventually got accustomed to him and his personality. But most of the conversation was later with Tea when everyone else left. At first it was awkward for him. As an antisocial being he didn't know what to talk about to a normal person. But Tea kept on talking for him, often asking him questions and by the fourth visit they led a steady dialogue.

Reid even watched her two or three times make some cakes to order after the closing hours. He had to stick to his regular seat at the wooden table in the break room while Tea was further away in the germ-free silver kitchen. She didn't seem to mind and after realizing that their conversations didn't ceased because of her busy hands Spencer decided that he didn't minded it either. He even found himself enjoying the view of her quick moves and the faces she was pulling when thinking about the ingredients.

The boy smiled a little at a memory from two weeks ago when she tried to teach him a simple apple pie. He cursed himself for mentioning her he never baked a pie. She was so excited which was a complete opposite to the displeased expression on Spencer's face after she adorned him with a pink frilly apron. All female employees, she had said unsuccessfully hiding a smirk. He was relieved when she soon enough fetched him another apron of the same green color she was wearing. She ordered him to peel some apples. Easy job to do, he had thought. Except Tea had to fetch some adhesive plaster for him when he finished. It didn't take long before the knife than nearly cut off his fingers ended up half an inch away from Tea's left foot. Since then she didn't tried to teach him anything else.

He looked at the kitchen door just as Tea appeared in it with a tray full of cakes and coffee. She flashed him a big grin and moved his way.

"Jess told me you came with a company and I just had to see it with my own eyes," the cakery owner wiggled her eyebrows and handed him his coffee and cake.

"Oh, funny. Thank you," Reid welcomed the goods. "These are my team mates from the BAU."

"The brain police," she beamed.

"Brain police," huffed Morgan but amused Garcia immediately shut him up.

"Well, yeah. That's Derek Morgan," introduced Reid pointing around the table, "our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia, Dr. Alex Blake and David Rossi. Guys this is Teatrice Hopkins."

"Oh, gee, thanks Spencer. Just call me Tea, really. Nice to meet you all, at least now I know for sure he wasn't lying about the whole FBI thing," smiled Tea and started to hand out the cakes and coffee to the team.

"But you _do_ know I'm working for the FBI. I showed you my badge," frowned Spencer.

"Social skills tricks. I'll explain that to you later," waved him off Tea.

"Oh sweet cheeks, you got a lot to learn," laughed Garcia and smelled her snow white cake. "Oh my, that smells like Hawaii!" she exclaimed.

"Long beach, blue ocean, and baby girl dancing in coconut bra," smirked Morgan watching the tech goddess took a bite and moan in delight.

"Don't let the image go far in that head of yours. We want you to sleep peacefully at night," chuckled Rossi. "But this is really good," he pointed at his plate and Blake next to him nodded in agreement.

"No wonder you got it here so full."

"Yeah, looks like sugar is the most favorite addiction right after alcohol and caffeine."

"Actually, the sugar addi…" the young doctor couldn't finish his statistics as Morgan took a fork with a piece of cake from his hand and forced it in his mouth.

"No nerd talk over the food, kid."

Spencer smacked his hand away and grunted.

Tea, who watched in amusement, handed him a napkin. "You can tell me about the sugar addiction later. Anyway, I'm glad you like it. If you need anything else let me or Jessica know."

"Thank you," said Reid and watched her disappear in the kitchen.

"Nice girl," began Rossi after a while.

"Smart."

"Cute."

"Definitely different than you," ended Morgan.

"And really none of your business," added the annoyed genius.

"Your business is our business," said the chocolate colored agent with a face that made Spencer really uncomfortable to look at. He had seen that expression on his face many times outside of the business talk. It was the 'I know about this more than you and I'm not going to explain it because you wouldn't understand it anyway' look. Oh, how much he detested that look.

"Since when?"

"Since the day you joined our team, pretty boy," smirked Morgan looking down his nose at the frowning boy.

"Don't let the words bite you in the ass one day," muttered Spencer into his coffee.

"Whatever. Anyway, I still need a drink. A couple of drinks, actually."

"Oh, I just know the right place. Down the street opened a new bar recently. M'isoirè. A lot of my lascivious smutty friends from the cyberspace highly recommend it. And if we get drunk enough to pass out we can sneak into Rossi's house and crash on his new couch," suggested Garcia.

"Why my couch?!"

"Because it's Italian and I always wanted a shirtless Morgan on a sexy black leather."

"I refuse to let you two anywhere near my couch. It cost way too much for anyone to get kinky on it!" argued Rossi but his words never reached the ears of the plump tech goddess and her chocolate biscuit.

"I don't think it's in your power. Whatever Garcia wants, Garcia gets. Whether you like it or not," whispered Blake leaning closely to the exasperated Senior Agent.

"Why can't we get a normal people working for us," grumbled Rossi looking at the two agents before him. The image of a half nude Morgan on his couch tarnished all his happy memories of the comfortable soft cushioned couch.

"I like that plan, baby girl," acknowledged Morgan and clinked his coffee cup with Garcia's cappuccino.

"There goes my appetite," muttered Spencer under his breath but Morgan could hear him loud and clear.

"Oh, kid. Don't think you are off the hook already. You are going to hit the bar with us."

"I rather not."

"That was not a question. You need to let off some steam. Maybe your new friend will help you with that."

Spencer was highly suspicious of the curved corners of his friend's lips. "She is working. And as I said before, I'm not going with you."

Spencer considered this battle to be won when no one said another word to him. But his relaxed posture lasted only for so long.

After the last coffee drained and the plate cleaned from all crumbs, Tea came to bid her good-byes. Garcia deemed it to be the perfect opportunity to mention their plan to hit the new establishment down the street. She watched the girl across her nod eagerly approving their choice. She commented how her classmate from high school, a passionate architecture lover, bought the place few months ago from an old lady and kept on transforming it non-stop until it had the desired effect. She helped once or twice with the drink menu and pointed out that it was the only bar in Washington to serve a special brand of blended Whiskey imported from Japan. She promised him to come and try it but unfortunately had not yet the time to do so.

And that was the moment when Spencer noticed the bright twinkle behind the colorful glasses of Penelope Garcia. But it wasn't her who opened the mouth and posed the question.

His team, his traitorous team, invited her to the bar.

And after a quick startled blink she said yes.

"You're also coming, right?" She looked at him with the big wondering hazel eyes and his nostrils caught the light citrus aroma coming from her hands rubbing against the green apron.

It took him twelve seconds to stammer out a pitiful 'yes'.

Only for the promise of Japanese blended Whiskey.

Only he couldn't convict himself to believe it.

* * *

fffff. I'm not very fond of this chapter. kinda weird

But I like the next one, I might even update a little tiny bit sooner (march 22nd, if I won't be too busy)

and here is a little preview :D

_"We are gonna get drunk, we are gonna dance and then we are gonna hold each other's hair while we puke. And we are gonna have awesome time doing all of that."_

_"Never heard anyone saying they had awesome time puking," said Spencer but didn't object when Tea refilled his glass with the liquor from the Whiskey bottle._

_"All you need as a firsthand experience, really. Cheers."_

By the way, English is not my first language. I mentioned that in my profile but not in the story. You guys are absolutely free to point out all my grammatical fails in the story (please tell me also the correct form) and I will try to correct it as soon as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The music was loud, the atmosphere light, dance floor crowded, and the Whiskey damn good.

It was easy to forget the embarrassment from a few minutes ago.

When they stepped out of the cakery half an hour ago the young genius could feel four pairs of penetrating eyes on his person. Tea wasn't free to join them yet. She still had to wait until the closing time. There was also a lot of cleaning and counting afterwards. Spencer was aware that it would take some time as he often observed the closing routines of the cakery.

And her absence allowed his team to observe _him_ without secrecy.

It was disconcerting to be the center of the attention. He tried; he very much tried to keep his gaze on the ground. But all his attempts toppled over a raspy snicker.

Oh, he knew whom it belonged to. The unmistakable sound he heard all too often. When he said something embarrassing to a girl; when he ranted about facts; when he wore a new pair of bright mismatched socks; when he didn't understand the words of normal people. The sound always came from the same person.

Damn Morgan.

Spencer peeked only very slightly from behind the curtain of his maroon hair. Rossi pretended he was oblivious to everything. Blake wasn't fast enough to shift her gaze when he looked at her. She hadn't even tried to wash away the curiosity from her face.

Only the blonde queen of kinkiness and her Hot Stuff deemed it redundant to hide their knowing eyes and a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat proud.

Morgan was eager to start teasing him but Garcia shut him up only after a couple of seconds.

And then Spencer suddenly noticed, after a decade of working with the BAU team, that silent knowing grins were far worse than a loud teasing. And the realization made him itch all over. His eyes found again their way to his shoes and didn't shift their attention until the team reached their final destination at the classy looking M'isoirè Bar.

It took only a few minutes for the team to part ways. Rossi and Blake were lost in the nearby corner playing darts. Morgan's attention switched from Spencer, who disappeared in the men's room, to a pretty brunette on the dance floor. Garcia was nowhere to be found. But it wasn't hard to guess her position when they learned today was a 'shirts off' dress code for all male bartenders.

That was the right opportunity to relax and enjoy the strong scent of an old Whiskey. It was his favorite alcoholic beverage. It warmed up his throat so nicely and the cool glass against his fingers was so smooth that he had the need to caress the glass up and down with his thumb.

With keen interest and observing eyes he watched a pack of young males three tables away trying one by one their pick-up techniques on random females at the bar. It was almost like watching laboratory mousses in a maze with a big piece of cheese at the exit.

Never had he the need to learn the socially important skill of charming ladies in public places such as this, but it didn't hurt to observe the craft in practice.

The score was pretty low. So far he counted only one given number to a blond guy who made a girl smile with a glass trick and a happy hour for a short guy who didn't even had to try that hard to charm an obviously drunk girl who looked ready to undress herself and dance on a table. A big security guard talked to them and he didn't see the eager pair for the rest of the night.

"Watcha drinking?" resonated in Spencer's left ear and it was quite easy to assign a face to the voice.

"Whiskey," he replied and made a seat near him available for Tea. He watched her take off her coat and quickly sniff the nearly empty glass in his hands.

"Watch this for me a while, ok? I'll get myself some mind-numbing stuff."

He didn't even have the time to agree when she swept off. Spencer looked down at the slipping coat on the seat next to him. He just barely managed to catch it before it brushed the floor. It was soft and still warm from her body heat. And it had the nicest shade of dark brown color he had ever seen; the color of his daily coffee. Just that simple thought brought back all the smells he associated with the hot dark beverage. And it filled him with a new energy for the evening.

Spencer didn't wanted to admit it, but there was more to her than the smell of sweets and caffeine that drawn him to Tea at first. He also started to notice how he was more at ease after he visited the cakery after a hard case. Without his knowing she learned his moods and gave him bigger cup of coffee or bigger slice of cake when it deemed to be necessary. Sometimes she would chat about the most insignificant things to engage his troubled mind. She didn't mind when he talked about random facts and statistics. At least he thought so, for she never stopped his recital. And sometimes he would listen to her recital when she explained some social situations he saw occur between people in their vicinity.

He was slowly starting to consider Tea as his friend. Even thought he only saw her maximum of four hours a week he deemed it to be a nice add to his ever so short list of friends. Of course JJ, Garcia, Morgan and the rest of his team were still his best friends, alongside Emily who had not ceased the contact since working in London. But all of them, including few other people from the same department, were related to his job. He could talk to them about personal matters, spent evenings with them; but in the end they all remained in his mind as acquaintances from the BAU.

He has good relationships with his neighbors (mainly the old lady who knits him warm socks every Christmas) and many faculty members of local schools where he lectured. But being friendly does not meant friendship. It was nothing like he had with his old schoolmate Ethan, or what he used to have with Maeve, or even his mother. It was an odd occurrence to have the quaint cakery owner anywhere near the friends and family list. Not on the list exactly as of yet, but definitely bookmarked.

And that also brought extraneous speculation for the overly contemplative young genius.

His mother was paranoid schizophrenic, Ethan had a drinking problem, and his lovely Maeve was dead.

There was always a glitch. Something that would turn a good relationship into a bad idea. All he had to do is to sit back and wait patiently for the truth about Tea to unfold itself. Satanism, tragic childhood, addiction, murders, mental disorder,…

Not that Spencer was a natural pessimist; merely sufficiently experienced. And the nature of his work practically predestinated him to meet with nutty people.

And above all, he worried, that despite all his predictions about her, she would turn out to be completely normal. Dr. Spencer Reid did not know how to deal with normal people. In spite of his wisdom about all serial killers living on the territory of United States and numerous murders in other parts of the World, he did not know how to behave towards ordinary people on the long run.

And he was so engrossed with his worries that he didn't even notice he was no longer alone at the table.

"Cheers, Spencer," Tea clinked her glass with his as she sat down.

Spencer jumped a little on his seat at the sudden proximity when her fingers brushed lightly against his bony ones. "Cheers," he muttered and with quick glance looked at her rosy cheeks. Her cheeks always flushed when they came in contact with cold weather, he noticed. Although a little snippy voice in his head told him the cause of her pretty red cheeks in this case was the muscular half-naked bartender she just talked to. He brushed the notion away with a light scratch of his nose. "Are you going to drink all of that?" he pointed to the full Whiskey bottle beside her hand.

"No. You are."

"I don't think so. I would like to stay conscious," he declined looking at her stony face.

"You will stay conscious. I just need to get you drunk. I will help with the drinking, don't worry."

"Why would you want me to get drunk?" Why would _anyone_ want to get him drunk? Was that some kind of tradition he was not aware of? To get at least one person from the gang completely wasted?

"To join the bartenders and get naked," she wriggled her eyebrows at the horrified looking doctor. "Oh, chill. I just want to get you on the dance floor. You can keep your clothes on." She smiled at him and shook her shoulders imitating some kind of Latino-American dance he was not familiar with.

"I don't dance," Spencer replied trying to ignore the cunning spark in her eyes. He knew it was a bad idea to join his team at the bar. And the presence of Tea only made his anxiousness grow bigger and bigger every time she opened her mouth.

"And I don't drink," Tea responded. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "That much," she added. "So we are even – you dance, I drink. And by the end of the night I'm going to laugh how much you make a fool out of yourself at the dance floor and you're gonna laugh when I vomit on someone else's shoes."

And she even dared to look satisfied about her plan.

"Or we can forget about that and just relax and enjoy the fine liquor," Spencer offered.

"Buddy, you are confusing a bar with a Gentleman's Club," she snorted and took a long sip from her glass. "Trust me. We are gonna get drunk, we are gonna dance and then we are gonna hold each other's hair while we puke. And we are gonna have awesome time doing all of that."

"Never heard anyone saying they had awesome time puking," said Spencer but didn't object when Tea refilled his glass with the liquor from the Whiskey bottle.

"All you need as a firsthand experience, really. Cheers."

They clinked glasses and without even realizing it an hour passed by and half of the bottle was gone. Rossi was happy to get away from the always winning Blake (a.k.a. Darts Queen, she told him) and engage the young pair of drunkards in a table football game. Years of watching the real football and college nights spent in the basement playing the table football made him self-confident enough to play against both youngsters. It was easy to win the first two games, mainly when neither Spencer nor Tea were quick or sober enough to spot the small ball. But all his smugness washed off when an amused Blake appeared at the table and lend the young pair a hand. Within the next five minutes the match resumed again between the two older agents.

Spencer was too busy giving a lecture about the history of table football although he mixed up some of the more syllable words at numerous occasions. Tea was preoccupied hiding her snorts as she laughed at the expressions the young genius was making when he thought hard about the words he failed to put properly into sentences.

At the last loud grunt the match came into a finish line with 3:2 for the linguist.

"Remind me not to ever play anything with you," muttered an annoyed Rossi.

"I'm a good team mate, but even better opponent," shared her wisdom smirking Blake.

"Hear, hear," acknowledged Rossi and clinked his Scotch glass with Blake's beer. "And what are we going to do with them?" He pointed at the awkward pair at the end of the football table.

"What? Never seen a stupid acting genius?"

"Never seen a stupid Reid. It's kind of scary," admitted Rossi.

"Spencer, they are calling you stupid," said Tea turning the boy around to face his older colleague.

"It's a long time ago since my intelligence quotient was tested but it is extremely impossible to drop the score from genius to stupid without any intreference, infrerence,… external causes."

Tea on his left looked for a while like she wanted to say something but in the end she just pursed her lips and snorted.

"Told you. They are wasted," whispered Rossi to amused Blake.

"Are you wasted, Spencer?" In normal situation Tea would now look down her nose with analytical eyes at the person in question. It was just her rotten luck that Spencer was a head taller than her. In order to stick to her plan she had to raise her chin quite high. She didn't feel as silly as she appeared to the people around her.

"What? No. I eat well. I was a little bit skinny before but since 2011 my weight corresponds with my height according to the charts. It's still on the border but it IS normal now. I think I actually gained a few pounds so I'm definitely not anorexic or undernourished," Spencer disagreed hastily.

"Oh my gosh he IS wasted," Tea smiled toothily. "I can get you finally on the dance floor."

"What? No! No," the boy squealed, but his normal weight had nothing on his friend's eagerness. His brakes were practically non-existing in his current state. Spencer could only verbally disagree, which he persistently did over and over again, but his legs followed Tea's lead without protest to the fully crowded area.

"Don't be shy. Look, there's even Derek and Penelope. We can join them."

"But I don't dance," whined Spencer. He could already see the excited expressions on the faces of his colleagues when they spotted his nearing figure.

"I don't care," replied Tea, "I have done my part with the drinking. And now you have to dance."

"I have never agreed!" he exclaimed.

"You didn't say no."

"The lack of disagreement does not mean automatic agreement!" The boy squealed when Tea put her hands on his hips and tried to make him sway to the music absolutely disregarding its rhythm.

"Then you should have been more specific," she laughed as Spencer tried to escape but couldn't because of Morgan who stepped behind him and blocked every possible exit with his burly body.

"Come on, kid. Show me your dance moves."

"Step out of your shell," encouraged him Garcia. The tech goddess looked like some kind of water fairy trying to summon the rain with her dance.

"Maybe you just need more of the Whiskey than I originally thought," pondered Tea.

"Possibly, because this experience is really sobering," grunted Spencer and moved Garcia to Morgan's arms so he could free himself. Morgan was all too happy to have exchange the slender twitchy body for a real curvy female in his hands. And Garcia would be a fool to protest against the randy look he was giving her.

But Spencer couldn't run away anyway. Tea grabbed his clothed wrists and swayed them like kids would in Ring Around the Rosie game.

"Calm down, Spencer. This is not a Nazi Camp. We won't eat you."

There was much the young genius wanted to say about the correct term and history of the camps but it would not help his current situation. "I really do not feel comfortable standing here in front of so many people," he muttered looking anywhere but the person in front of him.

"Don't worry; no one is looking at you. And even if someone was, by tomorrow morning no one would remember it. Come one, I saw two guys practically having a dress up sex on the floor, your dance moves can't be worse than that."

Yes, Spencer saw them too. And there was not enough alcohol to wash the image away from his memory. "But I don't know how," he admitted sullenly.

"What? Dance? And who really does? Just move to the music however you feel like."

Spencer shifted awkwardly on his spot and tried to listen to the music. He was not familiar with the song or the interpreter but he could recognize a beat popular for the rock genre. He pursed his lips and slowly started to move his weight from one leg to another.

"There you go," Tea smiled.

"This is really embarrassing," Spencer mumbled and tugged his hands away when he realized the young woman had still a hold on him. He tried to ignore the loss of warmth on his wrists when she let go.

"Don't be silly, you are doing ok," she reassured him.

Only he didn't believe so. The people around him looked so much better with their dance moves. "I feel stupid."

"I remember, although it's kind of blurry, you saying that you are not stupid."

"To be stupid and to feel stupid are two completely different things. People with lower IQ can be called stupid for they appear to be lacking understanding but their brain actually can't connect neurons properly. On the other, people with high intelligence…"

"Like you."

"…yeah, well. I'm a genius by statistics. By high intelligence I meant people of IQ 140 and higher. And even thought they are smart and clever they can get into unforeseen situations where they, despite knowing the theory behind customs, feel awkward and stupid to be part of them."

But he didn't feel so stupid anymore. The little lecture calmed his distressed mind and helped him cease the paranoia of everyone watching him. Damn her for knowing him so well.

"I'm sorry. My brain started to wander somewhere in the middle of your speech. I got all these psychedelic images of unicorns dancing around strip poles around me."

Dancing unicorn? Strip pole? It was obvious she was hallucinating but it would take more than a few shots of Whiskey to get into such state. "Are you ok? Do you need to sit down?" asked panicked Spencer. Her eyes were a little bit unfocused but otherwise she looked physically alright.

"I think the alcohol is finally getting to me. I'm really not good at drinking," Tea muttered. A lot of images shifted around her when Spencer led her back to their seats. Thankfully the rainbow colors ceased when she closed her eyes and put her head on the cold surface of the table like the boy suggested to her. She released a contended moan.

"Do you want something? Water? Coffee?"

"Nah, I just need some rest. If I wasn't standing for so long it wouldn't happen," she reassured him but Spencer was not so sure. His concern sobered him and he was happy to finally think more clearly. When he made sure Tea wouldn't fall from her chair he excused himself and went to order a bottle of water and a coffee. On his way back he saw Garcia making a beeline for him but it took only a single step around half-naked bartender to shift her attention away from him. His pleased expression washed away when he spotted a guy talking to Tea. It was one of those boys he saw earlier that night trying all the unfortunate pick-up lines. He couldn't interpret properly the look on Tea's face but it did not prevent him from quickening his pace.

"There, there kitten. It will be fun. I have lots of beers left, big Jacuzzi and a karaoke machine," persuaded her with low voice a brunet boy who looked like he just passed the legal drinking age.

"There, there you little punk. If you ever again suggest something so demented to me or to any other girl I will make you sing castrato for that karaoke of yours," came the stony reply.

"What?"

"Castratos were popular in 17th century. Male castrato voice is equivalent to the one of female soprano. In order to have such singing voice young boys before puberty were castrated and since most of the families were poor it had to be done without any proper anesthetics or painkillers and often with pliers," explained Spencer when he reached the table and put the hot coffee on it.

"Yes, except I will do it with my own bare hands," Tea hissed when the boy looked not so pretty at her drink partner. The white color that reached his face seconds later was far more to her liking.

"Ok, gee. It's not like you are the only chick in here. No need to get so violent," the boy tried to say carelessly but one look at the narrowed eyes of the female before him made him run for his life.

"Tche, pussy," she snorted and reached for the water that was still in Spencer's right hand.

The contact woke him up from the deep musing he was in since the explaining part. He rubbed his thumb against index finger and looked at Tea from the corner of his eye. "You are violent," he said thoughtfully, as if just for himself.

The girl shrugged. "Not really. Just sometimes. I mean, when I'm pissed, angry, sad, hurt, tired, annoyed, drunk, and it's also said when I'm expecting my monthly friend."

Spencer raised his eyebrows.

"Although I think I shouldn't have mentioned that last one."

"Maybe it's the alcohol speaking for you. But then again, I'm used to hearing worse things," he admitted. Her confession put a secretive smile on his face. He just found her abnormality.

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your face. It looks all wrong. Like something on there was screaming 'I don't belong here'." Tea waved her hand in front of Spencer's face. "I just can't pinpoint what exactly is wrong in there."

Spencer put her hand down with a snicker, "everything on my face was there since the day I was born. You're drunk, have some coffee." He moved his cup towards her.

"Isn't that yours?" She didn't even wait for a reply when she sniffed the steam coming out of the hot beverage and took a long sip.

Spencer shrugged, "it's big enough for both of us. Just try not to contaminate it."

"I think we are a past the 'girls have cooties' phase. But if it makes you feel better I don't have HIV, AIDS, jaundice, flu, cold or herpes."

"That does, indeed, make me feel slightly better, thank you."

"You're welcome," said Tea with a click of her tongue and a drunken wink.

"What was that all about?!" asked worried Garcia rushing up to them. Both jumped at the sudden high pitch voice in their vicinity. "I just saw a cute guy talking to the sugar girl and the next thing I knew he was all white and running in the opposite direction. Reid, did you scare away the potential boyfriend?" hissed again the rainbow goddess and pinched the boy in the arm.

Both mouths of the youngsters dropped down but Spencer quickly shut it and hissed when Garcia pinched him.

"N-no! it wasn't anything like that," sputtered the surprised boy. The absurd notion came out of the blue and left him completely stunned. Not only had he no idea how to respond to that, but he had to also endure the murderous gaze of his blond colleague.

"He wasn't all that cute," cut him off Tea after a while. Possibly saving him, for Garcia had already her hand raised in the air prepared to pinch him again. "I mean, he just came to see if I was drunk enough to go home with him and have a sex. He was one of those intrusive types that go around with ecstasy in pocket and try to score with as many girls as possible. But Spencer was quick enough to scare him off before he could pass me off the E."

"What?!" fumed Garcia. She did not resemble a water fairy anymore. With pursed lips and last heated look at Spencer she turned around and swept off to a far distance.

Dumbfound Spencer shifted awkwardly on his spot and looked uncertainly at the girl. "He did not offer you ecstasy, did he?"

"No."

"Do you know what can happen when Garcia finds out someone _lied_ to her?" he asked and stuck his hands in his pockets. No one lies to Garcia.

"Well, she wasn't honest about the 'potential boyfriend' either," she shrugged. "I saw Derek standing in the corner watching the whole scene with smirk on his face. I think they were just meddlesome and wanted to see your reaction about the guy talking to me."

"How would you know?"

"I did the same back at high school," Tea replied and took a last sip of coffee before handing the half full cup back to Spencer.

"But you just practically accused the guy of drug dealing," pointed out Spencer and sat down next to her. The coffee in his hands was still warm. He turned around the cup and drink it in one go.

"That may be true but I am also practically drunk. So really, who is going to take me seriously?"

"Two equally drunk FBI agents, I guess."

"See? I have it all planned out." Tea tapped her index finger against her temple. "And what's with the sugar girl nickname?"

"Trust me, it could be worse. Knowing Garcia and her obsession you could have ended up with some name meant only for drinks in a strip club," Spencer chuckled at the notion but he quickly came back to his senses when he remembered all the titles in the drink menu he saw in similar establishment Morgan dragged him into few years ago. He could feel the back of his neck starting to heat up upon the curious gaze of the girl beside him. "Not that I would know something like that," he said quickly tearing his eyes away from her.

Tea started to laugh out loud and Spencer couldn't hide his embarrassment any longer. His face turned pained which made Tea laugh even harder until she snorted. She slapped a hand over her mouth and nose but when she looked at Spencer's astonished face her shoulders started to shake and she began to laugh all over again.

And Spencer couldn't help but to join in.

* * *

next: chapter 6 on April 1... hmmm fool's day. now you wont't know if it will be a trololol chapter or a real chapter :D

anyway, feel free to point out any grammatical errors


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The elevator opened its heavy silver door with a swoosh and Morgan stepped out in all his hangover glory. He grunted at the loud sound of the busy BAU floor and his eyes immediately caught the sight of smirk on his older colleague's face.

"Let me guess. The pretty lady you fell asleep next to in the night turned out to be an old transvestite before operation in the morning."

"I do not remember any pretty lady or falling asleep," grumbled the dark skinned agent and narrowed his eyes at the chuckling Rossi. "But I remember you getting your ass kicked by Blake."

"A gentleman always lets a lady win," said artfully Rossi and waited for Morgan to catch him at the glass door leading to their department.

"But a gentleman does not look irritated over such a loss."

Now it was Morgan's time to smirk when Rossi narrowed his lips.

"There is no rule mentioning appropriate facial expressions."

"You would know. Be a good gentleman and remind me the next time not to drink on weekdays."

"I'm neither your boss nor your mother to remind you of the basic rules of drinking. But you looked like you had fun last night." Rossi raised one eyebrow at him suggestively.

"Not that I would remember," whispered Morgan and stopped Rossi from walking any further by tapping him on the shoulder. "After two hours at the bar everything got blurry and the next thing I knew I was sprawled on the ground of my living room and Garcia was snuggled in my bed," he said quietly looking around if anybody was listening to them. The surprised expression he spotted on the older agent's face after he was done with checking the area made him include additional information. "Both clothed," he exclaimed.

"You better. Should we be concerned about you developing alcohol addiction?"

"No need to. From now on I know my limits and I'm not overstepping them any time soon. How come you are ok? I saw you nursing a Scotch all night long and I even saw you stealing the Whiskey bottle."

"That's a gentleman's secret that I will not share," said Rossi with a low voice, "and also the Whiskey bottle ended up in your hands too," he added and moved forward again in the direction to his office.

"Gentleman my ass. It's pure evil," Morgan frowned and it would look far worse had he seen the smirk hiding behind Rossi's moustache.

His attention soon focused on the young genius next to the coffee machine. Despite what he saw the boy consume the previous evening he did not looked all that bad. His hair saw better days but that wasn't unusual. His black slacks had a nice iron line in the front and the blue-green tie matched his cardigan. Only his jaw, that he was now scratching rabidly, seemed to be left unshaven.

Morgan swiftly abandoned his plan to hide in the dark corner under his desk until at least the sharp pain leaves his head and strode to the coffee counter, eyes not leaving his prey.

"Trying a new look, pretty boy?" he asked successfully shattering the solitary and personal bubble of Reid.

Reid barely turned his head to look at his colleague. "Hm? No. I overslept. It was either shaving or brushing my teeth. And the next time something like this happens I'm picking shaving because this is really uncomfortable," the boy grumbled. To prove it he started to rub his cheeks with his short nails and knuckles.

"Don't do that. It will irritate your skin."

Easy to say, hard to do. Mainly when it itched like dozens of mosquito bites. Reid hisses and leaned his head to rub his face against the cardigan when his hands were busy preparing the strong coffee.

"I got a cream that will help with the irritation, but really, you need to stop scratching that," advised Morgan.

"I know… I just… these facial hair are really bugging me," he groaned.

"Oh, kid. But that's what the real men look like. You can't always have the pre-puberty boy look," teased him Morgan playfully jabbing him in the spiny chin.

Reid jerked his head away and frowned at his colleague, "said the guy with no hair on his head."

"Oh no. This fella realized ladies like my hot body smooth without any unnecessary hair," opposed Morgan lightly stroking his bald head and the front of his shirt with a certain swagger.

Dr. Spencer Reid was not just any genius. He was a genius with rather eccentric friends and colleagues. He wrinkled his nose at the suggestive manners of his team-mate. "Please stop, I'm not Garcia."

"My baby girl already knows everything about me." As she does about everyone else. "And you are due to some male talk about swooning the ladies. Your clock is ticking and you are not getting any younger."

"Uh, no. Thanks," replied Spencer swiftly and headed to his table with coffee in hand.

Unfortunately the persistent agent Morgan was already hot in his heels. "Not so quickly, lover boy."

Reid could only sigh when the dark skinned man hopped on his clean desk. From the corner of his eye he could also see Blake peek secretly from her table at him.

"Where did you disappear yesterday? I don't remember seeing you for the second half of the night," Morgan asked with a tone that begged for Spencer's full attention.

"I think you are not able to remember anything from the second half of the night at all," opposed the boy and tried to reach for some papers but the big body of his colleague was in the way.

"I didn't see you either," quipped in Blake when it looked like the interrogation ended before it could even properly start at the disinterest of the questioned boy. She felt a slight pang of guilt when she spotted the betrayal in the deep brown eyes on the face opposite of her.

Morgan on the other hand had quite a pleased grin on his face and was about to poke Reid in the shoulder when the boy shrink away from his touch.

"Nothing of that sort," replied offended Spencer already recognizing his expression. "We decided we had too much so we called a cab and went home. To separate homes," he clarified although he considered the case to be pretty obvious.

"You took a cab, together," repeated Morgan after him with a low voice that was meant to represent something but it was too early for Reid to catch the meaning of it.

"Yes. A cab. Tea insisted she lived only one bus stop away but I know the statistics and I'm not about to leave any female to walk home on her own at night. So we took a cab."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What happened after that?"

"After we took a cab?"

"Oh for Christ sake," whispered Blake at her table.

Morgan just sighted at the fatheaded friend in front of him. Obviously the IQ of 187 meant nothing when it comes to man talk. "Reid, you walked her home…"

"We took a cab," the boy corrected but Morgan waved it away.

"You had a pretty drunk willing woman and you want to tell me that nothing happened?"

The displeased frown and open mouth on Reid's face was a signal big enough for Blake to retreat. She dipped lower into her chair and pretended she wasn't there. Although her ears were open to catch any glimpse of the conversations taking place five feet away from her.

"First of all, she wasn't all that drunk. More like tipsy… or merry," opposed Reid. "I guess we could mull over her willingness since I have very little experience with willing women. There were pretty much just… ladies working on the streets and you do remember Lila Archer, right? Although I think it was a transference in here case but that's beside the point," he rambled quickly shaking slightly his head. "The point is they acted differently then Tea yesterday. So actually no, she was not willing to cross the friendship line with me or any other person that passed by her the entire evening. And on top of it, even if she was willing,… even if she grouped together with Lila, who by the way had a photo shoot in Playboy recently, and they tried to make a pass on me _I_ would be the one not willing."

"Lila Archer?" whispered Blake and immediately looked down back to her papers when the two colleagues shot her an uncanny look.

"It's… it's not even 18 months since Maeve was shot in the head right in front of my own eyes," said Reid again looking back at Morgan. "She was the first girl,… woman I was seriously interested in. Never in my life had I this kind of deep connection with another person. Do you think I could forget about her just like that?"

Morgan sobered upon his words and was ready to apologize but Spencer cut him off before he could utter a single sound.

"No, I mean… You know I'm over the depression. But all of it is still there, in my mind," he raised his hands to express all the thoughts running through his head. "Yes, I do admit that Teatrice is pretty easy on the eye and a nice person, and I guess also a friend. But nothing more. Right now I don't feel like I am ready to feel anything even remotely similar to what I felt for Maeve to any female species out there. I need more time than that," his voice cracked upon uttering her name.

But the memory of Maeve did not cause him the bitter heartache any longer. He no longer imagined her face covered in blood, he no longer dreamed of the terror in her eyes. He was done grieving; he was done replaying her death and last words. He was done remembering the bad.

The memory of her now only left a warm feeling in his chest. He still could hear the sweet voice whispering in his ear over the phone. He still remembered the thrilling and jitters down in his gut when he knew her name but was still unaware of her face. He treasured all the conversations he lead with her over books and their personal lives over the phone.

He looked up Maeve on the internet. And since then whenever her name was mentioned all he could recall was a beautiful smiling face with eyes that shone brighter than the most valuable book in the library of his dreams.

He was over her. Bud he was not yet ready to forget about her.

"Look, Reid," whispered Morgan and his prominent eyebrows sagged a bit, "I didn't meant it like that. For the last couple of months you finally acted like your old self. These few past weeks you looked even more at ease than normally. I'm sorry. I thought you were ready to move on. I guess I was too eager to have the awkward genius back." He hopped of the table and put a hand on top of it to lean closer to Spencer. "You know you can talk to me, right? I'm here for you whenever you need me."

"I know, thank you," Reid replied softly and watched his friend point a finger at him.

"I won't tease you anymore, kid. But keep me updated of what's going on in your life, ok? Don't keep us out of it, we are a family. My door is open for you," he pat him gently on the left shoulder.

"Ok. Thank you," the young agent nodded and watched Morgan giving him a crooked smile and move forward to the direction of his office. Reid looked at his clean table but after a couple of second his gaze shifted under his short eyelashes to the dark skinned colleague disappearing in the hall.

And he was finally free to do his work at peace. Even Blake kept on the pretense of absence. Although he could feel eyes on him every so often. And he was only glad Garcia and her fellow computer geeks had full hands of virus that spread over the FBI network and could not disturb him with her bubbly presence.

It didn't take long to finish all the files. By the lunch time he was ready with the documents needed for the bureau and after a quick tuna sandwich he completed his presentation papers that he needed for the upcoming lecture he was giving at Seattle University. Hotch made him take care of some calls and then he was free to catch an early train home and enjoy the rest of the Friday.

With freshly shaved face Spencer breathed in the early evening air and looked around. The streetlights were already lit in full swing even thought the Sun still caressed the tall building of the city in the far horizon. He stood at the edge of the sidewalk as people passed him by to enter the local theatre.

He was waiting for the early stage show of 'Sunny, sunny night' that was to begin in ten minutes. It was a popular play. Written in the early 1930's and reproduced many times since then in all parts of the States. Most of the adaptations in big cities consisted of bright visuals, numerous special effects and big cast of performers; but it could never drawn the audience into the story as a small local theatre could. Spencer loved the intimate atmosphere, old cushion seats and the closeness of the performers that were just one step away from the audience.

The young genius was excited when he saw the poster of the upcoming play on his way to work the previous week. But then a case in New Orleans got in the way and he completely forget about it until a semi-drunk Tea pointed at the poster hanging on a streetlamp last night when they were waiting for the cab home. It didn't take long to agree on seeing the play together.

But Tea was nowhere in sight and Spencer already started to tap his feet against the ground with anxiousness. They were to meet ten minutes ago. But all around were just unfamiliar faces having the last cigarette or the last moments of Sun before going back to the dimly lit theatre. Spencer turned his head to look around the sidewalk for the quirky brunette but there was no trace of her. He checked his watch before sticking his hands back into the warm coat pockets.

He didn't wait long before someone grasped him by his upper arms and brushed against his back.

"If you can see me, I can see you. If you can't see me you may be only seconds away from death," a female voice whispered in his right ear.

There was no other visible reaction than raised eyebrows, for Spencer recognized the voice immediately. "What?"

"What what? Chuck Norris. Does that ring a bell?"

"Uh."

"Oh no, don't 'uh' me. You had to hear of him. Everyone knows him."

Spencer shrugged his shoulders uncertainly and the hands dropped off him. He turned around to look at his companion. "It's statistically impossible to be known by everyone. There is 7.125 billion people worldwide and 0,00073% of them never even heard of God."

"You are such a party pooper."

"And you are late," he said looking at the young woman.

Tea shifted on her spot and awkwardly linked her fingers in front of her chest. "Well you see. There was this one old lady who wouldn't leave. She kept on ordering over and over again so we had to call for assistance to get her out of there."

"You lie. Why?" Spencer asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Well gee, ok," she crossed her arms and kicked the ground. "We received an early package of strawberries from a bio-farm but I was kinda hungry and they were so red and big and smelled so wonderfully and oh God… you know how much I love them. I swear I only wanted to taste one but then I just couldn't stop," she confessed. "I had to order a new batch but no one was picking it up so I had to make more calls and it took longer than I originally intended."

"I see."

"I'm glad."

"No, I mean I see. You still have some red stains left on your face." Spencer waved his hand in front of the corner of her lips.

"What?! No wonder people kept sending me these weird looks," Tea hissed as she wiped her mouth. "Still?"

"A little."

"Now?"

"A bit."

"Are you pulling my leg?"

"Kind of."

Tea slapped him on the arm. "Damn you. I should have recognized that mischief twitch of your lips sooner."

"That's what you get for being late," Spencer grinned and opened the entry door for her.

"I apologized!" she objected and stepped inside the small theatre lobby with Spencer in her heels.

"No, you actually didn't."

"I gave you an excuse; that is practically an apology."

Spencer could argue but had not the heart to. She did looked like she was really sorry and he knew she would apologize later with sweets. That's how she managed to keep all the people on good her side. And that also included him. So he would not argue.

By the time they left the theatre two and half hours later it was already dark outside. The streets were wet from the quick but heavy rain that swept over Washington just a few minutes ago. The wind picked up its speed and the roads were full of taxi cabs.

None of that mattered to the good spirited pair until a fast car passed by successfully splashing them with tons of dirty water when they were about to cross the street. The stunned girl soon enough changed her attitude from a calm person into a raving feline and it took everything in Spencer's power to catch the girl and not to let her go after the incriminated car that just stopped at the nearest streetlights.

"You need to calm down," tried to say the stunned boy when Tea nearly smacked her head in his jaw on her way to free herself. "I don't think you would be able to pay for the possession damage you would cause on the car." It was shiny and looked really expensive.

"Oh, you should be more concerned about the damage I'm going to insert on the driver!" she hissed and stamped her foot when the lights changed and the car speed off. "Aw, damn. You happy now?"

"I'm happy that I won't be spending my night on a police station, yes," said Spencer and quickly let go of her wrists. "I remember his plate number. We can get him to pay for the clothes."

"It's not really about that. This was my brand new pair of jeans," she grunted and looked down on her wet dirty self.

"If it makes you feel better this is my favorite pair of shoes," admitted Spencer and tapped his black and white Chuck Taylors.

Tea looked up and down at him. "Misfortune of other people is fun only if it happens to your enemies," she sighted. A cold wind blew by and she immediately shivered.

It didn't escape Spencer's notice. "Are you cold?"

"Yeah. A little," she pursed her lips and looked uncertainly at his wet shoes and pants. She rocked a bit on her low heels before she sighted again and waved a hand at him. "Come on, then." She turned around and started to walk down the streets but there were no footsteps following her.

"Well, I actually have to go that way," Spencer pointed behind his back when the girl turned her head to look at him.

"Yeah, and you plan to walk home in wet clothes, right?"

"There's one laundry service that I plan to visit."

Tea rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Do you really think I'm going to let you wander the streets wet and alone? I have this cool magic washing machine and some spare clothes of my brother. It's not that far away from here. And we have a bus stop nearby if you won't be in a mood to walk back home by feet."

Spencer knew she lived few blocks away from the theatre in a nice neighborhood. He saw a small part of it yesterday when they took a cab and Tea was the first to be dropped off. It would take only a few minutes to get there by feet and the goose bumps on his wet legs practically begged him to go with her. But he did not wanted to invade her own home. He wasn't even at Blake's home as of yet.

"I'm not sure it would be a good idea," Spencer shook his head but Tea already got a hold of his arm and dragged him down the street with her.

* * *

**I did a fanart to this chapter. The link is in my profile.**

I wanted to do a silly retarded chapter because of the Fool's Day today but all my Fun cells in my body disappeared. Little assholes.

Chapter 7: April 11th


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Spencer knew it was a bad idea. He damn knew he should ignore the cold, the wetness, and the shiver. He knew he should have said no and walk away. He felt awkward, nervous and the damp socks inside his shoes were starting to feel really uncomfortable.

But it was the moment when Tea unlocked the entry door to a beige wide five floor building and lit the lights that Spencer finally cursed his bad idea to hell. He was so not ready to learn that she lived on the top floor and there was no elevator.

To keep my body in shape, she had told him. Should be no problem for an FBI agent, she had told him.

Except Spencer had yet to tell her that he practically failed all the exams involving physical activity back at the Academy.

And High School, Elementary School and pretty much any other schools or courses he attended.

He looked up miserably at the numerous set of stairs and sighted. The first two floors were ok. On the third he started to breathe more deeply than normally. By the time they reached the top floor he was clinging to the railing and pretending he did not see the smirk on Tea's face.

He tried to catch his breath while Tea searched for her keys of an old and heavy looking silver door on the right. He recovered just in time to follow Tea inside her apartment.

And Spencer was met with the spacious living room and kitchen. There were many things he wanted to explore into greater detail but Tea already called his name and led him through a short hallway right into the bathroom.

"I'll be right back," she told him as she prepared a brown towel for him and vanished from the room leaving the door slightly ajar.

Spencer took off his dark coat and was about to take care of his shoes when he saw the distinctive marks they left all over the floor. He quickly took the shoes off along with his colorful mismatched socks and looked around for some mop for the floor. He found one in the corner but before he could reach for it Tea called him.

"Y-yes," he sputtered out and watched her ram her way in with arms full of clothes.

"Are you decent? Good. I got this for you. It might be a little bit wide for you but I guess it is ok for now. I even brought you mismatched socks. Well, I mean as mismatched as it can get. My brother is kind of a traditional type of a guy so from distance they look the same but if you look close enough you will see that one is black and the other one is darkishly dark blue," she said and put the pile of clothes along with a pair of brown fluffy slippers on top of the washing machine. "Yeah and… I don't know how much of you got wet so I brought the full arsenal," she tried to gesticulate with her hands what she meant but it didn't looked like the young doctor comprehended it. She sighted. "When you are done just leave your wet stuff here. I have super cool machine that will clean and dry it before you even know it."

"Thank you," Spencer nodded with honest appreciation and got rid of his wet pants the second the door clicked shut after the girl left.

Yes, the sweatpants were a little bit wide on his hips but at least he didn't need to use the blue boxer shorts that he found folded under them. His long coat protected most of his body so only the lower part of the coat and everything from his mid-thighs downwards got wet. Spencer emptied all of his pockets and put all his wet clothes on the floor next to the washing machine. Before he got out he also cleaned the dirty footprints he left on the floor.

"Tea?" he called when he stepped into the hallway.

"Give me a minute." He heard from the closed doors few steps away from the bathroom. "Go to the living room. I'll be there in a few."

It wasn't hard to find his way back to the living room. He could already see a part of an armchair from the spot he was standing on. He stepped inside the big room and looked around. In between the hallway and entrance door was placed an open middle sized kitchen with a lot of wooden cabinets and nice dark countertop. There was kitchen bar with cushioned chairs separating the place from the vast living room. It was easily the biggest room in the apartment. Possibly bigger than the bathroom, hallway and kitchen put together. On the right side were wide industrial windows that were covered with only a set of thin beige sheer curtains; allowing the daylight to enter the room whenever possible. In the middle were two light green armchairs and a soft looking couch. There were a few shelves with books and magazines of various topics, DVDs and decorations. A small TV was in the corner but it looked unused compared to the rest of the busy room. In front of the couch was a fireplace. The one that people had merely as a decoration rather than natural source of a heat.

But the thing that caught his eyes the most was the loads of photos that covered the wall all around the fireplace. It spread all over the area creating one big collage. There were some black and white pictures from Tea's childhood, few class pictures from school and also one where she had her graduation outfit on. Spencer had spotted a few years younger Tea with two newborn babies in her arms and a photo of her in front of a newly opened '_At sweets End_' cakery.

"Those are my most important people and moments in my life." He heard a voice from behind him.

"That's quite a busy life," Spencer replied looking at the nearly whole covered wall.

"I try," she smiled, "my mission is to finish this wall before I'm thirty."

"At this rate it would take you about 3.8 years to finish it."

"What did you said you graduated in?"

Spencer shrugged and put his hands in the pants pockets. "I didn't say, but I have PhD in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering and BA in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy."

"And _I_ have a busy live," Tea snorted and moved to the open kitchen. "Your clothes will be done in 35 minutes, you want some coffee?"

"Thank you and yes, please," replied Spencer and looked around not sure where to go. After he saw Tea picking some cookies from the oven his legs carried him to the kitchen before his brain could have even any say in it.

"Don't be too excited. I kind of messed up this batch. They are a little bit dry but it's not that bad if you pour coffee over them," she admitted sheepishly.

"I don't mind." It was still better than anything coming from his own kitchen. "May I sit down?"

"Yeah, sure. You don't have to ask that," she laughed, "make yourself comfortable."

Spencer sat behind the kitchen bar and watched Tea prepare the cookies and coffee. She was also dressed in a simple pair of sweatpants, plaid shirt and had similar pair of fluffy slippers as the one she had given him.

He was staring intensively at her bare heels peeking from under her gray pants when he suddenly remembered his wet shoes. He quickly looked down and yes, there were wet marks coming from the entrance door, around him and right into the hallway.

"I left some water marks on the floor," he admitted honestly although his voice lacked the power.

"Hm? Oh, don't worry about that, I made some nice mess in my room too. There's not a single day when I won't drop something on the floor, mainly in the kitchen. So I got here some easily washable laminate flooring. One sweep and it's all clean. Here you go," she handed him the coffee and put a plate with the cookies in between them.

"I'm still sorry," he apologized and wrapped his fingers around the hot colorful mug. There was nothing better than a smell of freshly brewed coffee. He inhaled deeply the aroma and took a sip of the dark brown beverage. The familiar warm taste in his mouth made him sigh in absolute content. When his gaze moved back to Tea she was looking and him with one raised eyebrow.

"You do know that too much coffee is not good for you, right?" she noted.

"It keeps my body working."

"It will shut down eventually."

"Actually, a lot of studies on coffee and its health risks have been criticized," corrected her Spencer with his twitchy hand already in the air to accompany his explanation with wild gestures. "Only the people with depleted enzymatic system of the liver or pre-existing problems like arrhythmia and anxiety do not tolerate caffeine well. Moderate dose of coffee is beneficial to a healthy person, although, there is not really such thing as generalized moderate amount because it all depends on age, gender and health status of the individual person. I have my amount limit under control so I can fully enjoy the benefits like increased energy levels and physical performances and better brain functions, like memory, vigilance, reaction time and cognition."

"Do you also enjoy the stomach irritation, heartburns, insomnia and increased urination?" teased him Tea. "I did a research too."

Spencer pressed his lips together, grimacing a little. "I would not say 'enjoy'," he mutter slowly, "more like the benefits were greater than the negative effects so I learned to ignore them."

"Ignorance, the answer to all problems. You know what keeps me going? Napping. One day full of sleep and I turn G.I. Jane for the next six days."

"G.I. Jane is..."

"You know what I mean. The point is that after one day when I do practically nothing but roll in my warm bed, I'm able to work with full efficiency the next few days. You could try it too."

"It would bore me to death to lie in bed all day long."

"It doesn't need to be a full day. Just as long as you need. It just needs a routine. I have a nap day on Saturday. I sleep until I get hungry, make a frozen pizza while I watch some random cartoon on TV, have a hot chocolate and drop to bed again until the sun wakes me up on the next day. Well, sometimes I also read a book, but not too often, I need to keep by brain activity to minimum. No, don't say anything about brain, you know what I mean. You could try the first part."

"You do that every Saturday?" Spencer asked after a while contemplating over her ritual and with great success ignoring her advice.

"Yup."

"All day long?"

"Yup."

"Wow. I mean, the studies have confirmed that napping is good for ones body but they never mentioned a full day, just half an hour or so."

"Nah, so instead of half an hour every day, I nap one whole day a week. Who cares as long as my productivity lever reaches 120% the next few days?" Tea waved her hand when Spencer was about to say something. "Give your brain a rest for a few hours and you will see the difference."

"I can try, but can't promise you anything," said the young genius at the end, not wanting to argue with the one who supplied him with doses of sugar.

Tea made a 'I'm watching you' gesture with her hand and Spencer smiled at her antics.

"Is that why are you closed at weekends? The cakery I mean."

"Kind of. I guess I just needed time for myself. The cakery keeps me busy all days and nights on weekdays. There's no way in hell I'm going to work on weekends too. Do FBI agents work like that? 24/7?"

"I don't know about every agent but my department is free on Sunday and most the times also on Saturday if we don't have a case. But if we have a case then yes, we work 24 hours a day until it's solved." In those situations coffee and work kept him awake during days and the fear of having bad dreams kept him awake at nights. He still got them. Not so often as before, but often enough to get him anxious before falling asleep when they are dealing with particularly sadistic deaths or child victims.

"Must be hard, huh? To see all the bad stuff," Tea whispered just loud enough for Spencer to bring him out of his thoughts.

"Well, it's not a piece of a cake." His lips curled a tiny bit at his own joke.

"You don't say; no wonder you're practically married to coffee," she teased and immediately burst out laughing upon seeing Spencer's comical expression.

"What?" His voice raised a few octaves up. "That's ridiculous. I'm not practically married to coffee. It's not even possible. Or legal for that matter. At least not in the United States. And it's not funny."

"Would you prefer if I rather used the word 'addiction'?"

Spencer shifted on his seat and licked his lips. "Uh, no."

Tea watched his reaction with curious eyes but didn't comment on it. "Marriage is much more positive word, isn't it?"

"Well, there are people who would disagree…," he said slowly thinking about all the statistics and certain dark haired senior agent. "Hey, what's that sound?" he asked furrowing his brows searching for origin the beeping sound.

Tea straightened in her chair and pricked up her ears. "Oh, the clothes are done. You're so lucky Dr. Spencer Reid, so lucky," she pointed finger at his feigned innocent face.

He was failing miserably at keeping the expression but at least he was able to distract her. From the corner of his eye he watched her round the kitchen bar and disappear in the hallway and then his gaze moved back towards the plate with the cookies. He quickly snatched one more piece and stuck it in his mouth before he hopped off the chair to follow after the girl.

Tea was trying to straighten up his pants with hands when he peeked at her in the bathroom. "It's kind of crumpled, but at least it's not dirty anymore," she said sheepishly when she noticed his presence.

"That's fine, thank you." He felt his ears burn when Tea fetched his rainbow mismatched socks from the machine. Men _can_ wear pink and yellow. Therefore he had no idea why he felt the need to remind himself of it or why did he kept on picking at the hem of his shirt with his twitchy fingers. He could see her nose wrinkle in silent snort but was thankful enough when she put the socks aside and dove into the dryer again to retrieve his coat and converse shoes.

"That's all, right?" She pointed at a pile of clothes on top of the dryer to her left after she was done separating both of their clothes.

"Yeah, I think so."

"`Kay, I'll be in the kitchen if you need something," Tea said and left the bathroom with her pile of clothes in her arms.

Spencer changed quickly and folded the borrowed clothes into a neat stack back on top of the dryer. He checked briefly his reflection in the mirror hung on the wall for any coffee spots around his mouth but there was none. There were just some cake crumbs on his shirt that he brushed away with two wipes into the washbasin. With the last look in the mirror he pushed his hair away from forehead and walked out of the bathroom.

"Thank you again for the clothes," he uttered when he rejoined Tea in the kitchen.

"Sure, you're welcome. Are you going to catch the bus?"

"I think I'll walk. It's a good exercise and I walk quite fast so I'll be home in no time," he smiled, proud of his ability to transport from one spot to another with his own body more quickly than his shorter cronies.

"Good to know who to call if I needed a quick delivery service," Tea teased taking the last sip of her coffee.

"Do I look like a delivery man?" Spencer asked looking down at himself. He couldn't imagine himself wearing something as ridiculous as a cap.

"No. But you don't look like a FBI agent either, so who cares?"

"I do get that a lot. Not everyone can be a huge tough guy with fierce look, social attitude and big guns." The boy frowned and shifted the coat in his arms.

"Is that your idea of a typical FBI agent?" Tea asked.

"No, that's the idea of everyone else around me of a typical FBI agent."

"Well, uh, you know there are a lot of cop jokes. So I guess no one really expects a genius to work in that field."

"You think that's the reason?" Spencer raised his eyebrows in hope.

"Yeah."

His expression soon changed regarding carefully the girl in front of him. "I'm expert on the body language. Did you notice your mouth twitches a bit when you lie?"

"I-It does?"

"Yes. Along with the hesitation and the way you are playing with the cup it makes it quite clear you lied. Although I have to admit that direct eye contact you kept fooled me for a second there."

Tea let go of the cup and clasped her hands on front of her. She shifted on her spot, brushed her hair behind her ears, crossed arms under her breasts and with a final twitch ended with her hands clasped in front of her again. And Spencer watched all of that without blinking.

"That's kind of disturbing," she said at the end.

"I do get that a lot too," he admitted.

"You don't say," Tea muttered and scratched her nose. "I think you look just too… nerdy. People don't expect someone with your looks to take care of their safety."

"My looks?"

"You know," Tea waved her hands in his direction, "the student/teacher's assistant/librarian/fashion model/child consultant look."

"Fashion model?" Spencer inquired.

"Tall, skinny. If you had a six pack you would be pretty much a wet dream of every fashion designer."

Spencer slowly licked his lips. "Now I do not know whether to be flattered or unnerved."

"You are free to feel flattered. At least until you get stopped by some unknown small man with lustful eyes and sticky hands that just won't stop roaming your arms and face." Tea smiled deviously when the boy in front of her lost all his pigment in his face. "Was a joke, chill."

Unfortunately Dr. Spencer Reid was known for many and great things; but humor was not one of them.

"Oh please," Tea snickered and rounded the kitchen bar, "you just show your badge and shiny gun and no one will stick their hands down your body. Unless you let them, if you know what I mean," she chirped in his ear and bumped into his hip with her own. Spencer was so flabbergasted by her actions that he had to fight for his coat to stay in his arms. Tea watched it with great amusement and when he won his hold over the coat she wiggled her eyebrows at him and Spencer started to feel the heat at the back of his neck again. She started to laugh aloud at his jittery moves to get into the coat. Only when she noticed that Spencer was avoiding eye contact and was pretty much trying to burn a hole through the spot he was standing on with his intense glare, she sobered. She rolled her eyes and exited his personal space.

The poor boy shifted his gaze only when he heard the sound of a drawer being opened.

"For you. In case of another sudden rainstorm." Tea waved a green folding umbrella in her hand for him to take.

"The chances of another rainstorm are pretty low, but… Thank you. I will return it as soon as possible," he muttered taking the umbrella from her. It looked to be of good quality. Not like the cheap stuff that breaks at the first slightly stronger gust of wind.

"Take your time, I have bunch of them. I just need the last violet one and then I would have all colors of the rainbow," she proclaimed making a grand arc with her hands.

"Ok, but let me warn you. Despite popular belief, there's no treasure under the rainbow." Spencer smiled forgetting the previous embarrassment.

"I know. It took me whole summer when I was six to realize that," Tea pouted. "I'll tell you my adventure later when we have more time."

"Sure. So I'll be going now. I wouldn't want to wait until all the criminals and robbers are out there on the streets," said Spencer checking his watch.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm totally delaying you. Be safe. Stay under the lights, no abandoned alleys, stay away from strangers' cars."

"I'm an FBI agent. I know the drill. I even teach it," announced the said FBI agent as he moved towards the front door.

"Yeah, and make sure to remember it," Tea huffed and opened the door for him. "Bye, brain police."

"Have a good evening, sugar girl," smiled Spencer and vanished in the dim stairways.

* * *

I wrote this chapter few months ago. Then I was starting to feel a little bit uneasy underestimating Spencer's physical fitness… but the episode 18 made me confident again :D

Poor boy.

I did also describe Tea's living room into greater detail for …spoilers much… this won't be the last time Spencer found himself in her apartment.

And now, can you imagine Dr. Spencer Reid in a cap? No? Have you seen 'How to be a serial killer'? Bart, anyone?

And can you imagine him to be a fashion model? Tommy Hilfiger, Marc Jacobs? Huh? HUH?

Seriously gotta love that guy

Next chapter: April 21st


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

The new week started with a bitter sound of an incoming text message.

_Got a case. Meeting at Northeast Washington PD at 7. _It read.

Desperate groans resonated in the households of six supervisory special agents.

The Police Department was already loaded with officers and volunteers when the FBI agents stepped into the main lobby. At the entry sat a middle-aged slim woman that directed the team members to a small meeting room where already waited their stony Unit Chief.

Agent Hotchner watched as the door closed behind the last agent and then he pointed at a photograph of a young boy on the board.

"This is Austin Takinski. He was kidnapped from his parents' house in the middle of the night. His twin brother probably saw the Unsub but is unable to describe him. He went into a shock and keeps on repeating the same thing over and over again although not in English language," he presented and took a few steps to get on the other side of the board to point at another set of photographs. "There is a history of twin kidnapping. The first victim, Michael Bringe, was found weeks later after his abduction. The Anacostia River washed up his body near the Nationals Park, miles away from his home. Autopsy determined he died of drowning in the same or in the next day as he disappeared. The case was previously closed as an accident. Two months later Julian Thompson went missing and the police started to become suspicious. His body was found a day later in the same river near the West Hyattsville Metro station. A local hydrologist determined Sligo Creek as the original area of drowning in both cases. Neither of them indicated a sexual assault but both, along with Austin, were the younger twins. Volunteers are going to be looking for him around the river and the police officers are trying to find some witnesses. We have maximum of 36 hours to find him alive."

"It appears the Unsub has a specific type. Roughly the same age, brown hair, brown eyes," pointed out Blake looking at the images of young boys.

"But how does he know which one of them was the younger one?" questioned Morgan.

"He could stalk them, knew them personally or have access to the information, like from school, hospital, office or some club," suggested Reid and looked at the photo of Austin and his twin brother. "Does the older twin Takinski have some disorder if he speaks in unintelligible language?"

"You can find out. You and JJ are going to Takinski's house. Morgan and Rossi, you are going to check along the river. Blake, you are going with me to the second's victim family. Garcia, do you need to go Quantico or can you work from here?"

"I'll just get my flashy computer from the car and you won't notice a difference."

"Alright. Everyone keep each other updated. No one gets home until the boy is found."

This time no one groaned.

Hotch and Blake had no luck with the Thompson family. The seven years old twins hanged out at a playground with few of their friends like they did every day after school. It took a while for them to notice one of them was missing. The kids didn't see anyone else. There was no adult witness, the dogs tracked the scent to nowhere, and the police didn't found any motive or suspects. Autopsy didn't found any external injuries, poison or drugs. Julian Thompson drowned in the cold river around 11pm, miles away from where he got lost.

Morgan and Rossi determined 4 places as the possible crime scenes. They sent the police and volunteers to search around the picked areas for any evidence left by the Unsub or the abducted kids.

Garcia completed a list of people who came into regular contact with young children and had all three families in common. She was still waiting for hints from the other team members to shrink down the numbers of the very long record.

Reid had no luck identifying the langue of the older Takinski twin and JJ was not able to make him talk normally. The parents swore to the agents they locked all the doors and windows that night. The father woke up before sunrise and found the older twin rocking back and forth in the kitchen near the wide open backdoor. The police found no sign of forced entry.

"You don't have to worry, Lucas. We want to bring your brother home but we need your help," JJ tried to persuade the little boy.

"Lediven chin," he sobbed sitting on his bed in fetal position.

"Lucas, please, just talk to us," begged also the desperate mother. Her eyes were puffy from crying nonstop since she learned her other son went missing.

"Lediven chin," repeated the boy closing tightly his eyes and covering his ears with hands.

"Lucas!"

"No, don't Mrs. Takinski," pressed the blonde agent. "Your son is probably scared more than you are. We need him to calm down."

"Mrs. Takinski, do you know anyone the twins would let into the house?" asked Reid.

"I don't know. They rarely open the door. They usually check through the window and shout out loud who is at the door. And we decide if they can let them in or let us take care of the visitors. They open doors only to the family."

"Did the boys ever talked like this in front of you?"

"They… sometimes. I noticed they use these type of… words when they are trying to be sly or cause some trouble. But they refused to tell me what it means."

"What type of words?"

"Uh, something like 'ohna' or 'ona' and 'ey'… I don't know. They never talked out loud like that, they just whispered to each other when they thought no one was paying attention to them."

"Siblings close in the age and twins particularly invent their own language. Most of the lingo actually consists of mispronounced normal words they heard or inside references. Kids usually stop using it when they enter Elementary school and start to interact with other children. It's quite unusual Lucas and Austin didn't give up on it." exclaimed Reid not really noticing the shift of emotion in Mrs. Takinski's eyes.

"They… they actually just started to use the language last year. I completely forgot about that. We were on a summer twin camp and all the kids talked in this weird language. They didn't do any mischief or pranks so we let it go. When we came back home the twins stopped to use it. Well… except the 'ey' and 'ona' words and now this 'nedivel chin'."

"Lediven chin," corrected her Reid. "What was the name of the camp?"

"Make it Double Summer Camp. It was supervised by Michelle Rodnis and this year it was led by her husband, uh, Donny or Ronny."

"You went there this year too?"

"Yes. The kids loved it so much that they had to return. They made such a good friends at the camp and they said they will meet again next year but…" her voice cracked and after looking back at her distressed son she started to cry again.

"I'll check with Garcia if there is any known twin language," volunteered Reid quickly and excused himself from the room.

_"The almighty Goddess of all electronic is speaking, name your wish," _came from the phone.

"Garcia, I need you to check if there is any wide spread twin language. The Takinksi boys were taught a lingo at a twin summer camp the previous year. The 'lediven chin' stuff Lucas keeps on repeating is probably from there."

_"I already tried to search for the phrase 'lediven chin' but I came with nada. These words never ever went public on the net. I went through a few discussion forums where parents mentioned theirs bundle of joys talk gibberish but there are no examples. Looks like the lingo is prevented from going viral. Kids sure can keep their secrets."_

"Which is not always a good thing. Can you find the camp and make a list of everyone that attended previous and this summer?"

_"I'm on it. The second I'm done it will be sent to you with the speed of a light." Clink. _

Garcia cuts off the line with the speed of a light, thought Reid and put the phone back in his pants pocket.

Another sob of the young boy resonated through the hall and a second later JJ stepped out of the twins' room. "Spence, this is not working," exclaimed frustrated JJ. "It's obvious the Unsub threatened Lucas not to say a word. He is more scared than confused."

"I know. I'm afraid he won't talk to us the normal way. Garcia is already working on the list of kids from the camp."

"You think that will help?"

"It can't harm," he shrugged. "Oh, wait. A message."

JJ raised her eyebrows. "From Garcia? Oh wow, that was fast."

"Light speed, apparently," muttered the younger agent skipping through the names in the file. He grimaced a little when he came to an end. "I hoped the previous victims would be here too."

"Garcia would have already mention it if they had something in common. What's wrong?" JJ pressed the boy in front of her upon seeing him frown deeply.

"Two names look familiar. I think I might know them," he replied and called Garcia again.

_"You know I worship your little cute face and buttocks but it won't make me work faster."_

"Oh, uh… thanks. I'm… glad you changed your opinion about my physique. And I'm sorry for rushing you."

_"…Oh, that's you Reid? I thought it was Morgan. Pretend you didn't hear anything. What can I do for you?"_

He should have seen it coming, really. Reid rolled his eyes and turned slightly to the side to avoid the curious gaze of JJ. "Can you find what Julia Faller's maiden name was? She is the mother of Samantha and Jimmy Fallers; they were in the twin camp this summer."

_"Let's see, Julia Faller married Patrick Faller… and her maiden name was Julia Hopkins."_

"Can you check if she is Teatrice Hopkins's sister?"

_"The sugar girl?"_

He could already feel JJ raising her eyebrow at him. Looks like Garcia already introduced his private life to the former media liaison. "Yes."

_"Hm, yeah. It's her family."_

"Can you give me her phone number?"

_"You don't have it?"_

"No."

_"You're slow. Sending. Bye lover boy." Clink. _

Reid turned slowly back to JJ with a clunky look. She looked much like an amused mother watching her teenage child sneak back into the house unnoticed after midnight.

"So?" she asked with her left eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I… I know them. I'm going to… call if I can speak… to them."

"Sure. Great. Go ahead."

Reid shifted awkwardly on his spot and moved his gaze from his colleague to the text message with number Garcia send him. "I'm going to… call from the other room. This one is too… loud and I'm not sure if we will hear each other," he exclaimed with a shutter.

He was not quick enough to exit the hall to miss JJ's chuckle.

Damn, damn and double damn. So much for being a profiler. He felt like a silly schoolboy getting caught breaking the 'no kissing in public' rules. He shut himself up in a bathroom and took a deep breath. There was no need to feel like that, he told himself. JJ was his friend and it's not like he was keeping a secret, he told himself.

Then why did he felt twitchy all over when he thought about his colleagues discovering his interaction with female gender?

He shook his hands to calm his nerves and dialed the number in his phone. It ringed four times before a female voice reached his ears.

_"Hello."_

"Hi. Tea?"

_"Yes, speaking."_

"Hi, this is Spencer, Dr. Spencer Reid," he introduced himself, not sure if she recognized him over the phone.

_"…Oh why yes, that name does sounds familiar,"_ came from the other side of the line with a hint of a light sarcasm. _"What's up?"_

"I'm calling you… actually I'm at work; we have a case here in Washington," he began and his left hand started to play with the hem of his cardigan. "We came across a boy who keeps speaking only in this weird language. It's kind of a stiff situation but I wanted to ask you if you noticed yours niece and nephew having some kind of their own vocabulary or speech to communicate with each other."

_"Samantha and Jimmy?"_

"Yes. I'm not sure how often you are with them but did they say in front of you words like 'lediven chin, ona, ey'?"

For a while there was no sound except the distant background noises coming from the Takinski house before Tea spoke up again. _"Could it be 'ona' and 'ein'? I heard them say those words. It means yes and no. But I don't know what the rest means."_

"So they do know that lingo. They learned it in a twin camp this summer, right?" Reid asked enthusiastically.

_"Yeah, how do you know that?"_

"Garcia did some digging. The boy I was talking about was in the same camp with his brother. But the brother was just kidnapped and the other boy won't say anything except a few gibberish words that appears to be the language he learned in the camp. It's highly probable he saw the Unsub but he won't tell us the normal way and he is the only witness so we really need him to talk. We searched for the camp to see if the previous victims were there too but they weren't but I noticed the names of your niece and nephew who obviously know the language too and now I'm rambling but the point is if I can talk to them."

_"…"_

"Are you there?"

_"Yeah, wait. I'm still processing what you said. My brain can work with only limited number of words per second."_

Reid closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose to give her a little time. "I'm sorry, sometimes I talk to fast if I'm close to a breakthrough," he said after a while.

_"Yeah I noticed,"_ came the stifled reply. _"I usually brush it aside but this topic is kind of serious so I had to think thoroughly over it. Ok, look. The kids are currently with their grandparents in Front Royal. We have a cottage there. It's kind of a cave. No TV, microwave or phone type of a thing. The only possible conversations with them can occur if you came over. And I would have to talk about it with my sister."_

"Front Royal is an hour and a half from here," counted Reid out loud. "But there is a signal right? In the area of the cottage."

_"Yeah, of course."_

"Can… can I come over? Will they talk to me? Translate the language?"

_"It depends on the importance."_

"It is very important."

_"Then they will have to talk. I'll make a few calls and take you there, ok?"_

"You will? Great! I'll let my boss know." The second Tea cut the line Reid called Hotch.

_"What's new, Reid?"_ came the quick reply.

"I found someone that can translate the language. It's about hour and half from here," said Reid already leaving the bathroom.

_"Who is it?"_

"It's Samantha and Jimmy Faller. They learned the same language in a twin camp they went to along with the Takinski siblings. They are a family of someone I know."

_"Yes. Garcia mentioned something."_ Oh dear God. _"Go for it. We will keep you in touch and tell JJ to stay with the boy. You two will be communicating when you arrive at the destination."_

"Alright."

_Clink._

Reid removed the phone from his ear and went to look for JJ. He found her in a deep conversation with the parents. He called for her from a distance and when she looked up he signed her with a little move of his head to follow him. JJ excused herself from the parents and followed Reid to the next room.

"We have kids that can speak the language about hour and half away from here. But they don't have a phone so I have to go there. Hotch said you should stay here so we can communicate when I arrive."

"Ok. I'll try to get a doctor in case Lucas goes into a shock talking about the Unsub," JJ offered.

"Alright," nodded Reid and without looking back swiftly exit the Takinski house.

The young agent tapped his foot on the edge of a busy street. He was to meet the cakery owner here but he had no idea what her car looked like. He watched many cars pass by but none of them stopped to pick him up.

It took him a while to notice the buzz of a phone in his gray pants. He checked the number and immediately picked it up.

"Hello?" he said covering his other ear to hear better.

_"Spencer? Where are you?"_

"I'm on the Newton Street. Where are you?"

_"On my way to buy a freaking GPS. I think I already passed that street, wait."_ There was a tires screeching noise and honking coming from the other line of the phone. "_I'm coming. There's a car service nearby, right?"_

"Yes," Reid nodded on his own accord and looked to his left at the white building. "Just drive a little further and you will see me."

_"Yeah, I'll be there in a second."_

The boy barely heard the end of the sentence when the line got cut. He put the phone back in the pants, checked the watch and before he could start to tap his foot again an old looking car stopped right in front of him.

It was one of those brown minivans that were nearly as old as him. Reid only managed to put the horrified face at the rust around the windows before a familiar brunette leaned over the passenger's seat and waved a hand to him to enter the car.

He did so reluctantly.

And immediately put on a safety belt.

"Hi, Spencer," she greeted and turned the car back into traffic. "What's with the scary face?"

"Nothing," he squirmed and pat the fabric of the seat. "How _old_ is this car?"

"What do you mean old? This is the best car ever," Tea argued and waved her hand in the air to point out the interior. "My dad bought it for mom when she was expecting Julia. Playmouth Voyager 1984, the First generation. I and my siblings were practically raised in this car."

"And it's still working?" Spencer whispered in disbelief.

"Well of course. My dad spent half of his life with cars. He knew what to do to keep it in good shape. He then gave it to us. But you know, my sister got married, to the son of a car racer nonetheless, had kids so I and my brother agreed to leave the car to her. But I still got to use it from time to time. It never lets me down, I'll tell you."

"That sure makes me feel better."

"Oh, please. By the end of the ride you will love this car," Tea promised but Spencer was determined not to be moved.

The minivan sure wasn't any louder than any random five year plus car but the dashboard looked unstable and the last row of seats was missing. And he was not amused about the sound coming from the trunk.

"Honestly, what do you want me to do to make you feel better?"

"Tell me it's a joke and that you have a car ready that has winter tires and is less than 30 years old."

Tea looked at the young man next to her grasping tightly the light brown seat. "I'm honestly telling you there is no other car. But then again in the glovebox of this car is packed caramel muffin for you."

Spencer's ears perked at the information. He tried to look uninterested but he could pretend only for so long. He looked at Tea from the corner of his eye and then he moved his gaze to the lock of the glovebox in front of him. He bit into his cheek and played a bit with the lock before it snapped open and his eyes landed on the package hidden in its depth. It didn't take long before his nose picked up the caramel scent too. "You just know me too well," he sighted and reached for the package.

The girl cracked a silent smile and let her trip mate enjoy the little piece of food comfort.

By the time he decided to speak up again they were already on the highway leaving Washington.

"What did your sister said about this?" he asked after he checked his phone for any calls from the team he might have missed.

"She was ok with it as long as I found out what does 'im lipsor onko' stands for," Tea replied shrugging her shoulders. "It's their favorite phrase."

"If they decide to translate the language we could mix it together along the rest to find out the meaning," Spencer suggested. There was no reply except the muted 'hmm'. He looked at the girl next to him but she was intently watching the road. She tapped her index finger against the steering wheel in a rhythm. Her muscles were at ease but her mind looked preoccupied. He asked what was wrong after he noticed the slight curl of her lips.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Don't mind me."

"You look annoyed," Spencer told her. Was it because of him?

"I'm not. I'm just thinking. Well, not really thinking. I just heard an old song this morning and I can't stop singing it in my head over and over again." She noticed the boy next to her tensed markedly, "Chill, I've got years of practice thinking and doing different things at the same time. I'm practically a pro."

"That does not help at all. 70% of all car crashes are caused by people who do not concentrate fully on the driving. The previous year over 33 thousand people in the U.S. alone died on the road," he exclaimed.

"Oh, please, Spencer. There was not a single car accident in my family for over five generations. I may do a lot of stupid things but crashing is not one of them. And unless you didn't notice, I'm a female. Women can multitask."

"Well actually," Spencer began and his hands were ready to support his commentary with gesticulation when Tea swiftly cut him off.

"Do NOT disagree with a woman, Spencer. It could be the last thing you do," she said in a low voice. "I'm serious," she added when the boy looked like he wanted to object.

Spencer shut his mouth and put his hands back into his lap. Although his fingers couldn't help but to twitch a little. "Why?"

"Because I can scare you to death with this car."

He was already frightened so he was not about to pressure the issue any longer. "What can I do to make you stop thinking about the song?"

"Dunno. Try talking," Tea offered.

"Talking? About what?"

"Dunno. How was your weekend?"

"Quite good. I went to a library; I go there every two weeks. I borrowed a few books, read few of them. Went for a walk, checked my papers for the next week lecture, watched discovery channel… and that's about it."

"And let me guess, for the whole weekend you did not talk to any human being."

"I greeted the librarian," Spencer opposed.

"That's not a conversation," the girl snorted.

"You did not say conversation, you said talk. I opened my mouth to greet her so technically I talked."

"What am I going to do with you?"

"I hear that question a lot."

"I bet you do. What's that sound?"

"What? Oh, that's my phone. Hello?"

_"Reid, are you already on the way?" _came a deep male voice.

"Yes, we just passed Arlington."

_"Alright. We found a piece of cloth from the first victim near West Hyattsvile."_

"Where the second victim was found?"

_"Yes. Looks like the place is special to the Unsub or he lives there. Garcia is checking for any accidents around that area in the previous years and also checking any twins living in the D.C."_

"Search for male fraternal twins and possibly also identical twins. Try also searching for everyone that lost a twin brother. I think the Unsub is reliving his death."

_"I'll tell Garcia." Clink_

Spencer put away the phone and rubbed his eyes.

"Is everything ok?" asked Tea watching the deepening frown on the young genius.

"Yeah. That was Hotch, my unit chief," he replied automatically.

"And are you ok? You look tired."

"I just hate cases involving children. We had one last week and it's too soon to deal with another one."

"It can take quite a toll on person, huh. You can take a nap. To refresh your mind. I will wake you up when we arrive."

"There's no need for that," Spencer assured her and leaned deeper into his seat. It may be old but it was so comfy and soft.

"You are like a kid in a kindergarten." Tea grinned when the boy curled his lips in displeasure. "Just close your eyes and relax a bit. I would even sing you a lullaby but I was told my singing voice is more for scaring robbers than lulling people to sleep."

"Good to know who to call if I needed to get rid of a robber."

The sentence structure sounded familiar to Tea and it was only after a couple of seconds when she remembered. "Yeah." She smiled slightly and looked at Spencer to find him with his eyes closed. When he didn't utter a single sound in the next five minutes and his breathing slowed down its pace she was sure the boy was already in deep slumber.

* * *

What is the sound of ending a phone call? Clink? Or click? Or beep? All of them sound kinda weird but I'm going to have more phone calls in this story and I don't want to use the wrong words. If someone knows the appropriate words for it, please let me know.

Sorry it took today so long to upload the new chapter. I was rereading it yesterday and decided I needs some rewriting. I just finished now. And I must admit I was naïve enough to think this twin case will take only one chapter. Oh how wrong I was. It will take a little bit more than that.

Virtual high-five for anyone who guesses right what does the 'lediven chin' means.

You are free to point out any grammatical errors.

Chapter 9: May 1st


End file.
